Time Was
by MakeLoveNotSense
Summary: Whoniverse ficlets. The plot bunnies will have their way...
1. Parallels

My first multi-chapter fic! OK, technically they're still one shots, but...

Disclaimer: It's not mine. But in a few months it won't be RTD's either.

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**Time Was**

Parallels

Standing with Christina outside a flying London bus, her face full of exhilaration and hope, he is so close to leading her aboard the TARDIS.

But then images dance behind his eyes: a blonde girl on a beach whispering an agonised _I love you_; a doctor kneeling behind bars telling tales of a broken woman walking the world; a flash of ginger surrounding desperate, burning eyes and a flippant _Yeah, see you_.

But strongest of all, he sees Christina. Her own variation of _bigger on the inside_, her first alien world, the first time she realises he can't save everyone. And her face, thirty years from now, a broken record repeating the same tired old melodies over a backing tape of weapons and threats. Remarkable, her resemblance to Sarah.

He doesn't want her broken. He doesn't want her wasting her life on a forever that was never hers to give.

So for the first time in his life, he says no.

He's never meant anything more.


	2. Indistinguishable

Another chapter! An actual chapter! Sorry, this is a new experience for me...

Diclaimer: Nothing has changed since last time. Yet.

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02 - Indistinguishable

Bad Wolf.

A mere suggestion dragged into existence by sheer force of will. A faithful companion and a loyal ship; all that is needed to save a world that seems determined to perish by any means necessary.

But then their Doctor was never intended to be alone.

The human child was only a tool, a physical form for the most faithful of them all to unravel the timelines like so much string and bind together the most acceptable pattern.

But glue is an unpredictable medium; every tile in the mosaic will eventually work itself free of its moorings. Some will shatter on the stones below; some will be left with tiny cobweb cracks, whole but tarnished. The lucky are made of stronger stuff, brittle but unscathed by the careless hand which discards the used shapes.

The one thing the artist never accounted for was the holes left in the pattern. A heart, or two, can only withstand so much before there isn't enough colour left to tell what the picture once held.

The child was weak, and the pattern frayed.

The picture fades.

The song is ending.


	3. Misplaced

My first attempt at dialogue-only humour/crack/randomness. In the words of a body-snatching trampoline, _en_joy.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Doctor. And let's face it, no-one owns Donna.

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03 - Misplaced

"We're lost."

"No we aren't."

"You're meant to be taking me to the fair, and we're stood in a room full of suits of armour. We're lost.

"We are not _lost_, we are merely… misplaced…"

"That's what you said last time."

"And I was right. We ended up exactly where we wanted to be."

"Yes, after landing on three swamp planets, four uninhabited desert worlds, a moon made entirely of peanuts and somehow single-handedly starting_ and _ending the Krosnen Civil War!"

"Double-handedly."

"_What?"_

"There are two of us, so we can't single-handedly… what are you doing with that? Donna, I don't think that spear is very safe… _Watch where you're pointing that!_"


	4. Elsewhere

Appparantly I have an inability to do anything mildly amusing more than once. So instead, please enjoy this dose of angst. And be thankful it's not as abstract as the next chapter.

Disclaimer: Do you think if I shout 'NO' loud enough, those lovely folks in Cardiff might hear me and have pity? No, me neither.

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04 - Elsewhere

Sarah used to love the stars.

She would sit for hours gazing out of her bedroom window, imagining the places, the creatures, the sheer _size_ of it all.

And then the Doctor arrived. He showed her the reality, the blinding brilliance of something larger than she could comprehend, and then turned it upside-down. But Sarah wasn't afraid; quite the contrary. She had finally found her feet, and the shoes fit like they were made for her.

But then the Doctor left. The stars seemed further away than ever, and she was left holding her breath. A day passed, then a week, a month, a year, five, ten, all blurring into one until she was dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

One night, Harry called her. The Brig was retiring and she was invited to the party. She asked him if he'd heard from the Doctor. He said no.

And that night, for the first time, Sarah removed the battered old key from her neck. The reason, she insisted, was that it didn't go with her new _(life)_ dress.

She looked at the stars just once. Then she closed the curtains.


	5. Wonderland

This, my friends, is abstract. Very abstract. In fact, if you do happen to review, would you mind telling me which bits (if any) you understood? I'd like to know if anyone can see where I'm coming from, or if I'm just spewing out rubbish.

Disclaimer: I do not not not not not not not own anything. I think.

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05 - Wonderland

Down the rabbit hole, and what a charming place it is. The rabbit entices you in with a charming smile and the trip of a lifetime. You never even consider saying no.

You try the key in the door. It won't fit, but you force it anyway because you simply _must_ reach the other side. Not replacing the key, you tell yourself. Merely changing the locks.

The pool of tears is harder to explain away. Maybe the rabbit cries for you, or her, or the gaps inbetween. Maybe the fox comes a-hunting and the rabbit is running scared, because the fox always survives while the rabbit is left without a prayer.

The Caterpillar gives you food for thought, though. You change your size so often; a maid, a confidante, a window. He could always see right through you.

You try to fool yourself that the Cheshire Cat is different, but deep down you know he was nothing but the rabbit in disguise. All that is left is the smile, and it's not a smile for you.

And oh! The March Hare. He charms his way to immortal fame, and you are left as the Dormouse while the Hatter remains oblivious.

But the Queen of Hearts is your true enemy. The picture in your head of perfection frozen in Time is too much to compete with, and you finally understand that she is the key that fits the lock. You cannot take one without the other.

The trial - now that is a sham. You were never meant for anything greater, even if you can see light beyond your prison bars. Even if the chains holding you are nothing but a pack of cards. The rabbit plays no games.

The King himself, lord of all he surveys. Ha! You show him the meaning of power; compared to you he is tiny.

And then-

You wake.

And finally you understand what you must do. You realise your place in the world of madness - you are the castaway, the storyteller.

Wonderland is no place for the author.

So this is Alice, getting out.


	6. Drownling

Dedicated to Derek Metaltron (my faithful reviewer!) and Whas'up, who wanted more Donna. This is a strange little piece that kind of ran away with itself. Warning: twisted future tense and JE speculation (i.e. what if DoctorDonna pretty much knew what was coming?) Don't worry, happier fics are ahead. Probably.

Disclaimer: Donna used to know I owned DW. Then _someone_ wiped her memories.

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06 - Drownling

Everything will have its time and everything will die. You'll remember those words, before the end. But not yet, you insist.

You won't notice that you're slipping until it's too late, and then you'll already be walking away. Oh, you'll put on a good show before the curtain comes down, but you always knew, really. This is the way the world ends: not with a bang, but with a plea for mercy.

Afterwards, when it's him walking away, you'll ask yourself why it hurts. The sound of the Universe will ring out and you'll pause, just for a second. A little blue… something. Tip-of-the-tongue. It never quite comes out.

Every day beyond that is the same. Get up, go to work, come back, eat chips and go to bed. Is that it? you'll wonder. But then, you've never known anything different. Have you?

Every now and then, when someone mentions planets in the sky, you'll get a blinding headache. It will come and go in an instant, but you'll be left feeling so _lost_. Like drowning under the weight of something that was never yours to bear.

You'll see your life stretching out in front of you. Ordinary, nothing-special with a hint of regret. But for now, you're content to make promises that you know you won't keep.

Forever and forever and forever.

You will be lost. But until then, you intend to _shine._


	7. Understated

The Abstract Angst is taking a back seat for the next couple of ficlets, in favour of something a little more lighthearted. Hooray! This ficlet can be taken with the New!Who Doctor of your choice (I'm leaning towards Nine).

Also, I've had a couple of people leaving prompts, and I'm quite happy to receive more. (In fact I'm enjoying the challenge!) So if there's something you'd like to read, drop me a note in a review or a PM and I'll try my best.

Disclaimer: I'm also inviting prompts for different ways to say 'NOOOOOOOOOOOO'.

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07 - Understated

Rose had no idea why she let herself be talked into this kind of stuff.

The Doctor had promised that they would end up at 'the party of the century'. He had, however, completely failed to mention which century. So now she was dressed like 'a wench' (their hostess's words - completely unfair, Rose thought, especially as this was her best clubbing gear) in the middle of a 16th century ball.

She caught sight of the Doctor, over the other side of the room. He was chatting to their hostess- well, he would call it chatting. She would call it flirting.

_Right_, she thought. _I've had enough of this_.

And with that, she proceeded to the door near the servant's quarters. The last thing she remembered that night was drunkenly accosting some poor fellow as he came out of the door, doing an uncanny impression of Captain Jack Sparrow as she swayed on the spot and shrieked "The wine's gone. Why is the wine gone?"

The Doctor had a stiff back for the next few weeks after that. She suspected it was from carrying her back to the TARDIS. What she didn't suspect was that the vague handprint on his face was from their hostess, who had accused him of 'taking advantage of an obviously mentally unstable woman whilst inebriated'.

Needless to say, they did not get a second invitation.


	8. Messy

Breaking the habit of a lifetime, here's the _second chapter in a row_ that does not come with complimentary anti-depressents.

Disclaimer: Always remember - two wrongs don't make a right and reading 1542 disclaimers does not make a show-runner.

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08 - Messy

"SPACEMAN!"

Donna stormed into the TARDIS console room, hair dripping wet from her recent shower, to find a pair of legs protruding from the console. Momentarily sidetracked, she asked the legs, "What are you doing under there?"

The pair of legs suddenly acquired a torso, a pair of arms and a very familiar head. "Nothing!" said the Doctor. "Just… some repairs…"

If Donna didn't know better, she would have said he was cowering. However, the mention of repairs had reminded her of her original mission. She thrust the object she was holding at the Doctor. "What the hell is that?"

He looked a little perplexed. "It's a hairdryer."

"_Yes_, I _know that_. What's wrong with it?"

"Well… it's a bit small-"

"Try to switch it on. Go on, try it!"

The Doctor tried it. Nothing happened. He tried it again. Still nothing. And then he realised that his thumb was pressing on an empty space where the switch had previously been.

"_Well?_" She fixed him with a furious glare. Yep, he was definitely cowering.

"Ah. I might have… borrowed it…" He flapped his arms vaguely in the direction of a suspiciously switch-like component lying on the console.

"_Fix it._" Donna raised one hand about an inch, indicating the barest hint of an Oncoming Slap. Fortunately, the Doctor had become so used to this gesture that he ducked instinctively. Unfortunately, this movement caused him to slip backwards, thwacking his head on the console and sending the offensive switch clattering through the open grille deep into the tangled wires below.

Fortunately, Donna didn't slap him. Unfortunately, she hit him repeatedly with the switch-less hairdryer.

It was a long night in the TARDIS.


	9. Twisted

For Derek Metaltron - a Dalek ficlet as promised. And the Cybermen are on their way soon...

Disclaimer: Although I do not own the Daleks, I have a feeling the Daleks might own me.

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09 - Twisted

"_I saw the Daleks. What we have done, throughout time and space."_

Most people assume time is a strict progression of cause to effect. The thing is, one tiny nudge to a single moment and those effects are knocked completely off track.

Caan knew this. The Time War - _his_ Time War - was merely a front. It never really mattered who won or lost, who ran away and who died fighting, because there was only one reason for its existence.

The creation of the Cult of Skaro.

They were threaded throughout the Doctor's later life, recurring in a never-ending loop. Created to destroy, but serving a greater purpose. Because without them, the Doctor never lost Rose. Without them, he was never anywhere near that supernova. So he never met Donna.

The Earth, in all its stolen glory, was never returned home. And the Daleks waged war across the stars, sweeping through time and igniting the skies of a million worlds.

And Caan could not let that happen.

So he twisted the threads of Time, ever so slightly. A failed takeover here, a Gallifreyan stronghold there. All the small things.

And a million miles away, in another time, a Kaled scientist was asked a question about life and death by a Time Lord renegade. Who knows? He may have chosen life.

But that tiny little voice at the back of his mind, the one that giggled when it spoke of _future_ and _power_, shifted the balance just that little bit too far.

And somewhere else, seconds or centuries later along that delicate Time thread, a War began.

"_I saw the truth of us, Creator._

_And I decreed, no more,"_


	10. Chance

You cannot escape the angst for long, people, even if it is in a different style than usual. And now for some slightly shameless advertising; this ficlet can sit by itself, but is mentioned in another one shot ('Mirror, Mirror'). Please let me know if I've done this right, because I have little or no experience at writing things in the style of a play/transcript.

Disclaimer: This is my tenth chapter of owning nothing. Here's hoping eleven is my lucky number...

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10 - Chance

U.N.I.T. Archives

File: Donna Noble

Date: 24/10/09

Time: 14.02

Re: Conversation between Sylvia Noble and the Doctor

Location: Mel's Café, Cheltenham Road, Chiswick, London

_Donna Noble and her family have been closely monitored on the instructions of U.N.I.T.'s former Scientific Advisor, the Doctor (10__th__ known incarnation). The following is a conversation that took place after a chance meeting on Cheltenham Street, approximately two months after the Dalek 09 incident (See file 206191)._

TRANSCRIPT:

Sylvia Noble (SN): So… how've you been?

The Doctor (D): _(looks away)_ Oh, I'm fine.

_SN looks unconvinced._

D: How's…Wilf?

SN: Same as ever. Still stargazing. _(pause)_ He looks up, you know. Every night.

D: Good… that's good.

_The waitress brings two cups of tea. Neither of them look at her._

D: She…

SN: She's back at the temp agency.

D: Oh. _(He looks distraught)_ And…

SN: She seems happy. She has funny dreams, sometimes, but nothing ever comes of them.

_He nods._

SN: So that's it. Everything back to normal.

D: _(sounding forcedly cheerful)_ She's better off without me! Living a life, she'll be brilliant!

_They sit in silence for a few more minutes. D stands up abruptly._

D: I'd better be going. There's a… thing, that needs… doing.

_SN looks him in the eye,_

SN: She misses you, you know.

D: She doesn't-

SN: She does. She doesn't know what she's missing, but she knows she's lost something.

_Pause._

D: Keep her safe for me.

_He turns to leave. One tear falls down his face before he exits the café._

_SN stays in the café for approximately 10 minutes. She then exits without drinking her tea._

END TRANSCRIPT.


	11. Sphere

Once again Derek Metaltron was my muse, with the prompt 'Cybermen'. It may not be exactly what he had in mind, but hopefully it's still entertaining. I make no apologies for the utter crack!ness of it. Feel free to suggest some prompts for me!

Disclaimer: I do not own human brains in steel shells. I would, however, own the mysterious object if it exisisted. On that note, tell me if you guessed what the object was before the end. No cheating.

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11 - Sphere

"What is this object?"

"It has been designated 'unknown'."

"List its properties."

"Approximately 7.496 Earth centimetres in diameter, spherical, red with a continuous white stripe surrounding the centre."

"Where was it located?"

"In a place called 'England'. It was transported because it contains traces of temporal energy."

"Ah. Hello."

"It is the Doctor! Delete! DELETE!"

"Well, yes, but before you do that, could I just say…?"

"We will permit your speech."

"Can I have my cricket ball back?"


	12. Hello

I've now reached nearly 600 hits and had 17 reviews - the most I've ever had! Thank you to everyone who's read this, even if you haven't left a review. Special thanks to Derek Metaltron, for his constant encouragement and prompts. Not that I've finished with these ficlets, though. You don't get rid of me that easy...

This is for Was'up, whom I have managed to thoroughly depress over the last few ficlets. Hope this is more up your avenue!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Doctor, but I am willing to take possession of the TARDIS if necessary.

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12 - Hello 

There was a knock at the door.

The Doctor immediately went pale, not that there was anyone in the TARDIS to see it. It was funny, really; he could stand in front of a fleet of Daleks without a care in the world, but one knock at the door and he was a quivering wreck. For a moment, he stood still, overtaken with memories of helplessness amid diamonds…

The knock came again, more insistent this time.

The Doctor walked warily to the door, sonic screwdriver in hand. Pity he'd been in the middle of mending the scanner - now he was left with no choice but to open the door.

The strange thing was, he had been in the Vortex for the past three days. And he certainly hadn't landed voluntarily. So just _what_ was making that noise?

_Just look outside_, he told himself. _Nothing to be afraid of_.

But his hands were shaking as he opened the doors.

And then his eyes fixed upon the figure outside the door, and his jaw became caught somewhere between hitting the floor and a wide grin as the two most beautiful words ever spoken reached his ears…

"Hello, Spaceman."


	13. Luminescence

People don't pay River _nearly_ enugh attention. So: River Song, This Is Your Life...

Disclaimer: The papers were hidden somewhere on my desk, but I lost them under a pile of university prospectuses. So until they're found, I can't prove anything.

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13 - Luminescence

The first time River met the Doctor was, in a word, odd. She had been in attendance at one of those obligatory dinner parties where everyone had become bored to the point of jumping out of the window by the time the speeches came round. It was at some point during aforementioned speeches that she first noticed the lanky man in pinstripes staring at her. He had met her gaze for a full minute before coming over to introduce himself, and kept changing the subject mid-way through every other sentence (never once mentioning his name). She also suspected he was trying to flirt with her.

Of course, they were then interrupted by the wall behind the speech-giver exploding, so there wasn't really further opportunity for conversation.

---

Their second meeting was a much more informal affair. He turned up at the dig site she was working on, claiming to be a history expert. He also claimed to be called 'the Doctor', to which she replied "First name 'The', last name 'Doctor'?"

He never gave an answer, so she called him 'The' for the rest of the day.

---

Her first TARDIS trip was a different matter. He seemed almost apprehensive, and she got the feeling he was trying to work out which destination would impress her most. They ended up in France, meeting a charming woman by the name of Reinette who had apparently just finished writing a letter to her 'lonely angel'.

The Doctor seemed to be worried about jealousy issues, but River just laughed at him and the two women spent the rest of the afternoon chatting while he left to sulk in the library.

When River kissed him later, explaining with a flippant "Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about", he didn't seem too upset.

---

They shared many such meetings over the years, skipping across timelines like dancing partners around a maypole. Some stuck in her mind more than others, of course - their meeting with Queen Elizabeth I, taking on the Shadow Proclamation, when he told her his name…

But as she sat in the midst of a crashing computer system and a million million shadows, the only time she remembered was the one time he'd said "I love you".

Of course, she couldn't say that to the man in front of her.

Spoilers.


	14. Dent

First of all, I have to apologise to everyone reading this who hasn't read Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams. You won't understand a word of this, but to summarise: the _Heart of Gold_ is a spaceship; Zaphod, Ford, Arthur, Trillian (who is female) and Marvin all travel on it; Marvin is a manic-depressive robot; the Doctor mentioned meeting Artur Dent in 'The Christmas Invasion'. I think you can see where I'm going with this one...

Disclaimer: I butchered the writing style of one of Britain's most beloved authors. Do you _really_ think they're going to let me loose on a national treasure like Doctor Who?

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14 - Dent

It was a quiet evening aboard the _Heart of Gold_. Of course, outside the ship were the leisure planets of Bematex V and VI, where it was anything but quiet. But inside, Zaphod and Ford had taken to hunting for a lemon with which to make Pan-Galactic Gargle Blasters, and Arthur and Trillian were playing chess.

Marvin shuffled into the room, giving what in robot terms would be classed as a scowl at the softly sighing door. He made a throat-clearing noise four times before either Arthur or Trillian noticed he was there.

"Yes, Marvin?"

"I just thought you'd like to know that there's a man with a blue box down in the holding bay. Would you?"

"Would we what?" Arthur asked.

"Like to know. I didn't."

"Erm… yes. We would. Can you bring him up, please?"

"I won't enjoy it," Marvin warned as he dragged his feet towards the door.

He returned a few minutes later with a scruffy man in a pinstriped suit and hair that was illegal in seven galaxies. "Hello!" the man grinned. It was difficult to grin a word, but this man was managing it. He wandered over to the table where the two of them were sitting, Trillian still with a rook in her hand. "I'm the Doctor. And you are?"

Arthur decided to take the initiative. "Dent. Arthur Dent."

The strange man gasped. "No! Really? Dentarthurdent?"

Arthur frowned. "Someone's said that to me before."

"I know," the man replied enigmatically. "And you must be Trillian! Hello. Although I must say I preferred Tricia. And I wouldn't move that rook there if I were you."

It was at this moment that the _Heart of Gold_ decided to throw its occupants across their respective rooms. Many floors below Arthur and Trillian, Zajonc and Ford restarted their search for the lemon, having just found it when the unscheduled earthquake sent it rolling away from them. However, many floors above Zajonc and Ford, the strange man was removing Marvin from his stomach, disentangling his feet from Trillian's hair and leaping over to the conveniently-placed controls with a loud cry of "I can fix that! Marvin, can you get me a hammer?"

When aforementioned hammer arrived, Arthur and Trillian spent the next ten minutes gaping at the man as he worked his way behind the control panel brandishing the hammer and a blue pen torch. His head popped over the top.

"I think I broke it. Ah, well. How about some tea?"


	15. Regret

Style shamelessly borrowed from Derek Metaltron's 'I, Master', which I advise you all to go and read.

Disclaimer: I have gradually lost the show, the style and now the plot.

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15 - Regret

Oh, you know the Doctor, do you? I met him once. Travelled for a while, saw some sights. Saw some… terrible sights.

You too? I suppose he does have rather a lot of friends. They must all blur into one after a while.

Which one did you travel with? Mine was completely mad. He could turn on a sixpence, as my grandmother used to say. Facing down aliens and demons with a smile and the next moment completely beside himself over the most trivial of matters.

I don't know, maybe I should stop looking back at the past. Yes, I saw some amazing things, but there were a few that make my skin crawl even now.

Beautiful? I suppose it was. All the stars and planets and creatures… oh, all the strange, strange creatures. I finally found my place for a while. I learned how to be… brilliant, really. All thanks to him.

Hm? Really? Not once? You can't have travelled with him for long, then. Yes, he'll take you to the greatest funfair this side of Mars, or the first planet to resurrect the dodo, but sooner or later death comes a-calling. Sometimes the things I saw almost broke me.

What? That's an interesting question. The Doctor destroyed my home, my family, my life. I was disposed of like so much rubbish, tossed out on the heap like the rest of the poor fools who dare to love the man with the blue box.

But do I regret it? Seeing all those sights, so very far away, and realising all that I could become?

Do I wish I hadn't met him?

Never.


	16. Duende

This is for Derek Metaltron, from the prompt 'regeneration'. If anyone has anything they want to read, let me know and I'll see what I can do with it!

Disclaimer: I have nearly 900 hits and 27 reviews, but unfortunately no contracts. Shame.

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16 - Duende

It is very difficult to describe regeneration.

At least, it is in English. The single-layered sounds sitting somewhere between harsh and soft just do not have the scope to explain the double-edged feeling of _loss_ and _beginning_.

The Spanish have it right. The word _duende_ has no direct translation, and yet say it to any Spaniard and they will immediately understand you. The closest anyone ever got was 'exquisite sadness', and it might just apply in this case as well.

The same thing happens in Gallifreyan, but to such a greater extent. A single syllable can have three, four, five meanings all at once. It is nigh impossible to articulate in English anything even resembling the dual emotions of sadness at what is left behind and expectance that what comes after will be better, stronger, _more_.

And therein lies the problem. Because if you happen to be around someone who doesn't understand your language when a regeneration occurs… you have to try to pack that non-explanation into a box maybe fifteen seconds long. And if you don't, if you can't win them back afterwards, or convince them you knew all along what would happen, then you lose them forever.

It is not easy to describe regeneration.

But the Doctor tries.


	17. Forest

These ficlets seem to be getting longer and longer... along with the author's notes. Anyway, nearly 1000 hits and 30 reviews! That's ten times more than I've ever had before. Thank you all!

Disclaimer: I own books. Lots and lots of books. But not Time Lords.

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17 - Forest

It started off as a joke.

Susan had been learning about Earth customs, specifically the practice of keeping a diary. She didn't understand why anyone would want to do something as boring as writing down what happens each day, but her grandfather suggested she try it.

The first few days, she was bored stiff. It felt like the worst kind of homework - thick heavy leather books and her best handwriting cramping her hand unrecognisably.

Then about a week after the start of the experiment, she had an argument with Grandfather. It made her _so angry_ and she had no-one to tell. So she went to her room, pulled out an empty notebook, and simply scrawled her feelings across its pages.

Later that night, she read it back. _Ah_, she thought. _This is what a diary's for._

It was a few years after this that she left, and the one thing that she regretted leaving behind was the stack of diaries hidden away in a secret room in the TARDIS.

---

Tegan had always hated writing.

It was why she'd chosen to be an air hostess - no imagination involved. However, she had to admit to being a little intrigued when that door, partially hidden behind the wardrobe in her room, opened onto a medium-sized library full of hand-written books.

She spent a lot of time in that room, over the coming months with the Doctor. She read of Ian's encounter with a caveman, of Jo's many meetings with the Master, of Sarah and the Sontarans. She got the feeling that everyone who'd ever travelled in the TARDIS had found that room and added their own adventures piece by piece.

And who was she to break tradition?

---

Ace was looking for a place to manufacture explosives.

Not big ones, mind, just… enough that the next person who yelled at her would have a little more than your average shouting match to contend with. But when she found the library, she stopped for a while.

From then on, she tried to spend a little time in there each day. Because reading of the adventures of Polly and Harry, of Leela and Romana made her feel like she was in the company of friends. And it helped her to understand the Professor just that little bit better.

So she added her own book.

---

Martha couldn't sleep.

She was sick of tossing and turning, counting sheep in a never-ending line that brought tears of boredom rather than relief to an exhausted mind. So she decided to go and look for a book.

It was then that she noticed the door. It was peeking out from the space between the bed and the wardrobe, and she was almost certain it hadn't been there before.

_Maybe it's fate_, she mused, laughing to herself as she opened the door.

She gasped at the sight before her. Rows and rows of books, different sizes and shapes and colours. There was a name, hand-scrawled on the side of each one. Some names had more books than others - 'Mickey' had only one book, 'Liz' took up nearly a full shelf.

_All those people_. And suddenly Martha understood the terrible sadness in the Doctor's eyes.

She searched the shelves, looking for the book she knew had to be there. She would make time to read the others later, but for now… She finally found it, a purple-bound volume about an inch thick covered with silver spirals. There were six books on the shelf, some thicker than others, but all covered with that same purple.

_Rose_, declared the messy teenage handwriting.

And Martha began to read.


	18. Circles

This is possibly the ficlet I've enjoyed writing most so far. Possibly because it's the one I've found easiest to write.

Big thank you to bt () for their review - couldn't PM you so thanks! Also thanks to all of my other reviewers, obviously. Feel free to suggest a prompt!

Disclaimer: It's mine on Opposites Day. Guess what! That's not today. Damn.

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18 - Circles

Donna Noble was not in a good mood. Billy May had dumped her that morning, and she managed to get no less than four detentions - not a single one of them her fault. Well, maybe the last one, where she called the teacher a stupid cow. But none of the others.

She pulled the ridiculous school tie from her neck as she walked along the bank of the Thames, willing that she could just disappear. She hated the routine of it, the mind-numbing feeling of doing the same thing every day. She wanted more freedom than that.

Trailing her hand along the railings, she sighed softly. And then frowned.

There was someone in her way.

He wasn't particularly threatening, although with the big leather jacket and buzz cut he might have been trying. But what Donna noticed most was the large bottle of vodka in one hand, and the railings tightly gripped in the other. He swayed slightly on the spot, and her mind was made up. She leisurely placed herself beside him, not touching, but close enough that no-one else could hear.

"You can stop now."

The shock on his face was almost comical. He staggered backwards, eyes almost at his hairline as he registered the presence of an observer. Then, as quickly as if it had never happened, he was stood in the same position as before. But his eyes were on her.

Boldly, Donna carried on. "I mean it. You can stop drinking, 'cause you won't find the answer in there."

He glared at her. "How do you know? You don't know anything about me."

She shook her head, deciding against berating him for the cracked quality of a voice fallen into disuse and tainted by drink . "I know you're from the North, and I know you're trying to shut people out - don't look at me like that, I'm doing Psychology, I know these things - and I also know that you looked like you needed someone to stop you."

He was silent for a few minutes more. And then something most unexpected - he began to talk.

"There was… this accident. And I lost my family. And the thing is, this accident, it was my fault. It was… this decision I made. Bad decision, but I didn't have another choice. D'you see what I mean-" and he broke off, turning to stare desperately in her eyes as if he needed someone, _anyone_, to understand him.

"Yeah. I think I do." She held his gaze. "But that doesn't mean you have to do this-" gesturing to the bottle "- because do you really think that's what they'd want? For you to give up on the world? I reckon they'd want you to keep doing whatever the hell it is you were doing before."

"They hated me before."

"So why stop now? Carry on. I bet they're dying for a laugh, wherever they are."

Instead of cringing at her badly-made and completely unintentional pun, his face split into a small but genuine grin, quiet laughter taking the place of the previous dead look in his eyes. She could see from his face that he still wasn't convinced, though, so she took him by the shoulders and gently spun him on the spot.

"Way I see it, you've got two choices. That way-" she indicated right "-is the way you're heading now. Living your life trying to meet their expectations, and never quite knowing if it's enough. Or, you can go the other way. Do your own thing, and know that whatever they would've wanted, it would be enough that you're happy."

He glanced at her shrewdly. "And which way are you going?"

"Me? Right now, I'm going right. 'Cause I've still got school and exams and Mum to worry about. But one day… oh, you just watch me. One day I'm turning left."

And with that, she walked away.

He stood there silently for a few seconds, just watching her leaving. He considered calling her back, but decided against it. Not today. But maybe he'd see her again, if he was lucky.

Then, leaving nothing but a 'thank you' floating on the breeze and a half-empty bottle floating on the Thames, he turned left towards the street corner, and the little blue box he called home.


	19. Between

Jenny is under-used. My greatest fear for her, though, is that someone will consider her spin-off potential and she'll become overused. While she's safe, have a ficlet.

Thanks to James Birdsong for last chapter's review.

Disclaimer: I am willing to share custody of Jenny, but only with the Doctor. RTD will have to wait 'till she's eighteen for contact.

* * *

19 - Between

When Jenny was born, she knew blood.

She could identify all seven points where a Hath could be struck with very little force and immediately die. She understood how to patch up a soldier until they could reach the progenation machine. She knew how to fight and she knew how to die.

What she didn't know was why she had come into being with dyed hair and eyeliner.

---

As Jenny grew, she learned tactics.

She ascertained from her superiors the war and the cause. She discovered from Donna what it meant to have a mother. She learned from her father that she was different from all who had gone before.

What she didn't learn was why he found it so difficult to accept her.

---

With Jenny's death, she found pain.

She uncovered the Source and what it could do to those who lived for the fight. She obtained the approval of her father and his appreciation of her… _unique_ talents. She found that she was willing to die for something or someone she believed in.

What she didn't find was the reason why the hole in her heart was so damn _painful_.

---

When Jenny woke, she lost conformity.

She borrowed a ship and taught herself to fly. She drifted into space and realised she could be her own person. She lost herself in stars and did an awful lot of running.

What Jenny had lost was her father.

But that's about to change.


	20. NeverLand

20 ficlets! Thank you to all who have read and/or reviewed. In celebration, have some angst. And feel free to prompt.

Disclaimer: If it's a year that exists in the mind, then logically it can't be owned by anyone.

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20 - NeverLand

She'll save us, they said. She can stop him, they said.

And for a while, there was hope. They all saw the broadcasts; promises of rewards for the head of Miss Martha Jones on a silver platter. And because she had earned his hate, she was gifted with their adoration.

Until she came their way.

Then there was hiding, and muttered curses, and threats. Yes, she was doing a noble and brave deed, but she would certainly not be doing it under _their _roof.

Because yes, they'd heard that her stories would save them all, and yes, they would gather to listen. They would believe implicitly because they needed to, and they would do exactly as she asked because it was all they could do.

But they would not ignore the warnings of the storm left in the wake of Martha Jones. Stories of raids, of every child shot, of whole countries razed to the ground for a secret its people never asked to know.

And through that year, the year that never was…

_If you had not come, would anyone here have died?_

They think they know the answer.


	21. Conversation

Something a little bit different this time - a challenge. This ficlet comes from my pitiful (and slightly confusing) attempt to make a coherent conversation using only lines that have been found in episodes, so your mission (should you choose to accept it) is to 'name that episode'. This webpage will self-destruct in 15 seconds.

Disclaimer: At the moment, not even the words are mine! Normal service will be resumed tomorrow.

* * *

21 - Conversation

(or, Quote Me Happy)

"Mum, you're such a liar!"

"I said they were real. Aliens and spaceships all in public."

"Can you promise me that?"

"You can trust me on this."

"_Right._"

"So, what're you doing in Cardiff? I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"Where'm I gonna go? Ipswich?"

"I dunno. I'm just more worried about you."

"I'm fine. I'm always alright."

"I hope so."


	22. Theory

Thanks to James Birdsong (who I couldn't PM) and of course Was'up for reviewing!

This ficlet was a kind of allergic reaction to a mad fan idea that I couldn't hep but try to make work.

Disclaimer: I'll have Adam if no-one else wants him (and along those lines, I think I can get away with Adric as well).

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22 - Theory

No-one quite knew what to make of the hole in Adam Mitchell's head.

In the end, they got used to ignoring it. It didn't interfere with his work, and it didn't annoy him quite so much any more when people 'accidentally' clicked in his presence. Mostly.

His time with the Doctor had changed him in more ways than one, though. He buried himself in his work, identifying genes for emotions and (unbeknown to him) paving the way for a new generation of mood-altering drugs. Funny thing was, he was _proud_ of it.

You see, the Doctor had said he wasn't the best. And Adam was going to prove him wrong at all costs. So his 'side projects' involved everything from sense enhancement (focusing on eyes first, naturally) to human cloning.

His first test subject was, of course, himself. Installing the third eye came easier to him - he had a ready-made direct passage to the brain. And, oh, the wonders he could see. Now who was the best, Doctor?

But it was never enough. Earth was somehow _constricting_, like an old T-shirt grown too tight. He needed more.

So when the Time Agents responded to his self-made homing signal, he never looked back. Take me to Saturn, Sirius, Sontar, he said. Somewhere beginning with 'S'.

They laughed, and took him to Skaro, during the troubles. The people there were kind, gave him a laboratory to continue his work as long as he promised to help them in their war. And it wasn't long before he had created creatures with the potential to feel nothing. The perfect killers.

And when the explosion took place, leaving him legless and with only his cybernetic eye in place, he didn't mind at all. Because how could he be useless, how could he be anything less than _great_, when he could create this?

Such creatures needed a name, so he named them in honour of his Kaled hosts.

Daleks.


	23. Afterglow

This is yet another one of those angsty stories where I came up with the title first. Feel free to suggest titles...

Disclaimer: Technically, Astrid is dust. I am partly made of dust. Therefore I own Astrid. My logic is irrefutable!

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23 - Afterglow

Astrid always wanted to fly. Even as a little girl, she would look at the Stowian birds and tell anyone who would listen that one day…

So stardust wasn't that much of a disappointment, really.

She spent her eons flying, careening through the Universe and claiming every inch as her own. Atoms became planets, and moons, and _people_, every one of them filled to overflow with life.

She was also part of the Doctor, of course. And a little bit of her was in every creature he met, or travelled with. She became the voice of warning in the head of those who were foolhardy, the spark of compassion in every blackened soul.

Death was not the end of Astrid Peth.

It was the beginning.


	24. Waves

Let's just say I got bored of string theory...

More pseudo-angst, I'm afraid. Feel free to suggest something a little more upbeat.

Disclaimer: In a sort of cosmic, roundabout way, everyone owns everything. But will it stand up in court? No.

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24 - Waves

For some reason, timelines always get compared to string. It's not true.

Timelines are like the sea.

That feeling, where you wade in and feel the sand beneath your feet. You're slipping and sliding about, and you won't put your feet down properly in case something with claws gets caught between you and the sand. But eventually, you get used to the feeling of not being able to see your feet. You finally know your way around.

Then the bottom drops away.

Suddenly, you can't see anything. Not the shore or the sand. Just the endless waves. You certainly don't feel safe.

And sometimes, it makes your head spin. The utter chaos of it all seems so pointless, so many combinations, like notes on a piano and not a single one in tune. And the music of the waves is just a roaring mass of contradiction.

Other times, you almost understand. There's almost a pattern, lingering just beyond reach in the mess of foam and water. And if you could only put your feet down for a moment, you could stop and work it out. You could see what's coming.

You could see everything that was, everything that is, everything that ever could be.

It's no wonder you're struggling to stay afloat.


	25. Or

25 chapters, 50 reviews! So to celebrate, let's have another round of angst. I promise my happy!muse will be back tomorrow. After that, though, no promises.

Disclaimer: I do not own the companion-parent of your choice. Nor do I own the ones you didn't choose.

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25 - Or

You have a choice, you know.

You could press that button, pull that lever and hope for the best. You could pretend that nothing ever goes wrong and that nothing ever could.

You don't have to try very hard to make it plausible.

Then afterwards, when the fire is out and the world is once again oblivious, you can say 'I told you so'. Because you did. Even when you didn't believe it.

But could you live with yourself? If that one-in-a-million moment pulls your worst nightmares from your head and dangles them before you, could you walk away and do it all again?

I'm asking you to reconsider. I know you won't, but I have to know I've tried.

Will you save the world, Doctor?

Or will you save my daughter?


	26. Dressage

After the angst-fest, I was badly in need of something lighter. Don't worry, though, normal service will be resumed tomorrow.

Disclaimer: I typed it. Does that count?

* * *

26 - Dressage

Rose was about five hours, forty-seven minutes and three seconds late, the Doctor estimated. Four seconds. Five.

He had sent her to 'find something a little more… suitable' from the TARDIS wardrobe, not expecting her to try on every piece of clothing available. Which would appear to be what she was doing.

Still, when she walked into the console room, he couldn't help but laugh. He guessed the TARDIS had kitted her out, because she never would have chosen that… ensemble by herself.

She didn't look impressed, though. "You're taking me to the Planet of the _Clothes Horses_?"

---

Martha had never been one for playing dress-up. She was always reading a book while the other girls were doing each other's hair and plastering on make-up.

But she had to admit she was rather enjoying her rampage through the TARDIS wardrobe. So far she had found a polka-dot bowtie, a miniskirt made entirely of string, and a coat that looked like it had jumped out of a musical. Martha didn't even want to guess where that had come from.

She finally settled on one of the more unusual garments in the collection, and walked out fully prepared for the Doctor's laughing fit.

That didn't stop her from mumbling threats about his driving ability, though. "If this isn't the Planet of the Feather Boas, I'm gonna stick those feathers where the sun don't shine…"

---

Donna almost skipped into the console room, wearing what was possibly her most bizarre piece of clothing yet. The Doctor opened his mouth to give the by now traditional laugh, but suddenly got a mysterious twinge in his cheek and promptly shut up.

He had to admit, though, that it was the first time he'd ever seen someone being so _happy_ about the bizarre clothing customs on certain planets. But still - it was Donna…

"See, Spaceman? What did I tell you? Planet of the Hats, I'm ready!"


	27. Interchangeable

Back to the angst. _Again._ Only slightly abstract, though. Are you proud of me?

Disclaimer: Every character, plotline, word and sentence on this entire site can be summed up in two words: Not Mine.

* * *

27 - Interchangeable

I never wanted you all to myself, you know. I could see, every time you mentioned another time or place, that I was sharing you with so many others.

But to have the proof shoved in front of my nose… to know that whether we want it or not you just push us away without a second thought…

You see, I'm just a shop girl. But being with you, I honestly felt special.

Sarah saw it. Sarah went out, all those years ago, when _you decided_ it was over, and got herself a life. So that's what I tried to do, here in this world.

You told me once that you would _never _leave me behind.

And then you gave me yourself, cut off from everything he ever knew, and asked me to make him better.

I can't fix this, Doctor. God knows I've tried, but he's too far away from home. That one heart might be human, but it's all locked up in a little blue box.

I really thought that you loved me. Even if it was just a little bit. But you've asked me to do everything you had to do, and now I'm wondering if it was some sort of revenge trip. Make me understand that 'forever' I was promising.

'Cause you were right. We wither and we die.

_Can you imagine watching that happen to someone you…_

You know what?

I think I can.


	28. Atonal

I'm back! Did you miss me? Sorry for the delay, my Internet connection went into meltdown. Still, never mind. Let's have some more angst to celebrate my return, along with a double-length disclaimer.

Disclaimer: Show runners would be able to pay someone to fix their computer the very same day. One day, I will have that power. Until then, I'm stuck with AOL Technical Support and hamster-powered electicity.

* * *

28 - Atonal

It is sometimes possible to hear silence.

It doesn't happen very often, but when it does the entire world stops.

Because he was so used to ignoring the clatter and crash of a million million Time Lord thoughts inside his own head, so reliant on his ability to lock that world away with a skeleton key, that when the music ended he forgot how to stop hiding.

And then, _before_, when it got to that time of night where he always weakened and told himself that he was checking for their own good and not because he missed the company inside his head, he could hear the deafening sound of a momentary silence. Then the lock opened and everything came crashing back. The gentle waltz punctuated by syncopated drums that was exclusively Romana. The odd little bass line without melody that underpinned Andred. Flavia's ethereal singing.

Still. Gone now.

So he started to talk. Chatter away, never stay silent, because if you ask a question and wait for a reply, then you can hear the sound of no answer and it feels like the record is skipping.

He doesn't like music any more, but he listens all the same. Searches for Susan's lilting lullaby in the strings of Bach, and fills his head with every drumbeat imaginable for the Master's elusive rhythms.

Sometimes he gathers every record he owns, every cassette tape and CD he can find, and puts them all on together. Turns the volume to eleven and loses himself in the complete mess that sounds just that little bit like home.

Sometimes he almost finds them in the swirling mass of colour and light that dances before his eyes with the throbbing headache of one who shuts away the world behind a door and then forgets to close the window.

Then the music stops, and he remembers that a repeat button is poor company.


	29. Walls

Oh yes, people - I'm well and truly back. And I've got the angst to prove it. More future-companion JE-sadness than you can shake a stick at!

Disclaimer: Can we write it? Yes, we can. Do we own it? No, we don't.

* * *

29 - Walls

She wandered around the rooms at will, stopping every time a door caught her interest and trying to put a name to the contents within. It was a game she had played for a while, storing away every mention of those that had gone before to fit with the colours and shapes.

This pink monstrosity, then, must be Rose. Blond and pretty, the photographs said, with a typical teenage taste in clothes and eyebrows that had seen better days.

And the demure orange, so like the Charlie he had spoken of. Wanting to break free of her Edwardian restraints, but never letting herself (or him) get too out of hand.

The dark blue-grey with bold stripes of green was obviously Peri. Spiky and abrasive, with just a hint of softer undertones.

But the game was not always concerned with 'was' and 'were'. The maybes and might-have-beens were just as intriguing, and many a time she caught him sitting in a room with little defined personality and he would tell her a story of Christina or Kamelion. She understood that he really meant 'this would have been her room' or 'he would have been safe here'.

She let it go, knowing that he was not forbidding her to enter. He knew about her games, and he knew the former occupants of those rooms would not want their legacy to be lost in time. So he let her wander.

But there was one room that she only entered once. The purple walls were nothing special, and there was nothing to suggest that this room held anything but another companion. But the wardrobe was stripped to the bones, and the look on his face was such that she crept away in terror while his back was turned, to sit outside the fated room and cower.

He found her later, still sitting there, and said 'I left myself behind in her'.

She knew who he meant, and held him while he cried.

She still plays the game sometimes. She doesn't tell him her guesses, though. She's afraid she might be right.


	30. Tradition

To celebrate 2000 hits and 30 chapters, here's... no angst! Surprise! And Vindictive!Martha is fun to write.

Disclaimer: I take full responsibility for the restaurant. I will not, however, take responsibility for the clearup. Or the bill.

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30 - Tradition

Martha had seen some sights working in A&E, but nothing could have prepared her for this.

A restaurant full of creatures of all shapes and sizes, buoying above her head and hurling various types of food at each other. The food then became stuck in mid-air, and lingered like a floating missile until the nearest unfortunate person drifted into it. It had gotten to the point where the game had come to resemble 'Who can avoid the food longest?'.

"Come on! It's fun." The Doctor was floating over to the other side of the room, wearing a massive plastic bib. "And they get offended if you don't join in, it's traditional!"

"And how exactly are we supposed to eat?" Martha asked, eyeing the hovering tables suspiciously.

"Party-pooper." He made his pouting face, the one she could never resist, and she resolved to try, if only for the 'I told you so' speech she had planned, complete with a rousing chorus of 'You should have known better' and a dash of 'Next time we're going to 21st century Italy for dinner'.

---

A while later, covered in food, Martha had to admit she had never laughed more in her life. And, whispered her slightly wild side, the irony of smashing that marzipan rose dessert into the Doctor's face had not gone unnoticed.

Maybe anti-gravity restaurants weren't such a bad tradition after all.


	31. After

Sorry, people - we're getting a little run of angst!ficlets next. Probably caused by a combination of a lost Internet connection and impending exams. Share the gloom.

Disclaimer: How about I take charge of DW and RTD does A-Levels? Fair swap?

* * *

31 - After

He left her standing, Mickey clinging to her leg, and managed to wait until he was safely back in the Vortex before he collapsed to the floor. He didn't cry - that would never do - but he didn't move either.

About an hour later, he stood. _Right. Onwards._

He tried to go somewhere pleasant, he really did. But heading for the Gardens Of Mau took him to the eruption of Krakatoa; the waterfalls of Zenga became the Titanic. He was self-destructing and he knew it.

The words came unbidden in his mind: _you need someone to stop you_.

So he went back. Nothing too flashy, just a quick visit to confirm that _anywhere_ could also mean _anywhen_.

And this time, he left with her.


	32. Honest

Yes, people, it's yet another Dark!Ficlet. Sort of a companion piece to 'NeverLand', and if you squint, 'Wonderland'. Probably should have subtitled this 'No Man's Land'.

Disclaimer: I take full credit for the 'Land series. All mine. It's the only thing I own.

* * *

32 - Honest

I was saving the world.

That's what I have to tell myself. Everything I saw or did in that year, every choice I made, was to save everyone.

So I'll try not to think of those I left behind. I'll deny I was the only one who got out alive - I'll deny I was ever _there_.

But the fact of the matter is, those people who died, it doesn't matter if they're back now. Because it was me who killed them in the first place. I led the Toclafane to their door, I pleaded for their help and left when they asked me to return the favour. Their price was their lives and my cheques were written in hope and a story.

I think I finally understand why you run, Doctor. Because if this is what you leave behind, the broken and the bruised, then you can't even bring yourself to say goodbye to those who pick up the pieces.

I'll give you that, at least. I'll say goodbye and give you my love.

And then I'm gone.


	33. Voice

Angst again. But on the bright side, my brain exploded yesterday and chapter 41 is complete and utter crack!

A bit of Joan Redfern for you, requested by Derek Metaltron.

Disclaimer: Derek owns the idea and RTD owns the whole damn thing. Capeesh?

* * *

33 - Voice

It hurts. I'll not deny it, because you won't believe me anyway. But it hurts.

I just have to ask, though - do you care? All those people you left, everyone you took to the door of the monsters, does it ever prey on your mind?

I suppose, if you are so full of those wonderful sights and stars and magic, that you can leave the bad and take the good. But I'll tell you this: I saw it too.

Oh, yes. The watch wasn't just the promise of a false future; it showed me everything you are. A single man clinging to the ruins of a civilisation he never cared for because he thinks someone has to. But tell me this, Doctor - if there is no-one to hold you accountable, why _do_ you care? Why do you not go on as before, in your whimsical ways, ignoring the laws and customs of those who shunned you? They never expected you to keep their idiosyncrasies in life; they certainly will not in death.

But I know why you do it. Because if you chase their approval, and uphold their tenants, then how can they be gone? The Time Lords are not lost if you refuse to lose them.

In a way, it is ironic. A group of individuals, a nation, a _family_, to whom you have no obligation, but you set us on fire to hide yourself amongst the flames, and all for the sake of peace. Does this sound familiar?

And I see; it is your refusal to interfere with a Family like no other that damns us all. I cannot hold you back from this terrible end because I am nothing to those _great_ laws which you so desperately sustain.

I will not be silenced so easily, though. I will _make_ you see what you have done, what you have cost us. If your future is not with me I will at least leave a part of myself with you.

I cannot be mother or wife.

But I will be the voice in your head.


	34. Roots

The angst has been downgraded to minor class today. Thanks to Derek Metaltron for the prompt 'Jabe'.

Disclaimer: I do own a plant. But not a Tree.

* * *

34 - Roots

Jabe was dying.

Oh, not literally, and barely even metaphorically. But everything of her world, the plants and trees that were her kin, was gradually fading. All for the sake of the metal machines.

It was not that she blamed the humans, though. They had toiled away for so long on their devices and technologies that they had forgotten how to be any other way. And if Jabe's line was ending, then it was completely unintentional. And completely unpreventable.

It made little sense to a Tree, though. How could anyone survive without the earth and the air; how was it possible to become so utterly removed from everything you were? An Organic, those whose ancestors were the plants of the Earth, would never forget these things.

So they tried, their race. They walked among the humans, bearing their wooden statures regally - a badge of honour. It was a charge to remind all who had lost their way that they had once shared their home with the very creatures they were unwittingly destroying.

That was Jabe's reason for the Platform 1 visit. She didn't lie, she was there because she had to be seen at the right occasions. But this particular occasion was a principle: the Earth had been their home too.

Afterwards, the story began to filter through. Lute and Coffa spread the word, of their fearless friend who had given her life for a system she barely comprehended. And the humans began to remember.

The re-establishment of Organics culminated in a revival movement. In conjunction with all descendants of Earth, a new planet was designated a memorial to Jabe and all those the technological race had unthinkingly abandoned. A planet dedicated to healing, and covered with Organics of every kind.

A planet called New Earth.


	35. Symmetrical

Very nearly an honest-to-god drabble today. Go on, guess who you think this is about. I dare you.

Diclaimer: Symmetrical implies two. The BBC can keep one and I'll take the other.

* * *

35 - Symmetrical

We are one.

We will not admit it. We do not acknowledge that neither is complete without the other. Neither do we divulge that we were once brothers-in-arms. The past remains just that.

Or does it? Because history informs everything we do. The never-ending dance, a swirl of iridescent colours against a biting sea of black and white. It is the _did_ and _was _that drives us.

The _will be_ is looking lonely, though.

Because if there is no _I _and _you_, only _we_, then how can you have left me?

It is impossible to fight without a partner. It is also impossible to dance.


	36. Mechanism

Because Miss Evangelista was _just that awesome_. She managed garner sympathy for herself, CAL _and _the Doctor in two lines whilst sympathetically explaining to Donna that her entire life was a lie. Eva, we salute you.

Disclaimer: Mine all mine. Only not.

* * *

36 - Mechanism 

We are the puppet-masters, the levers and the gears. You see the show; we see the inner workings.

For you, the stars are a light display, pinpricks in the canvas of night. For us, they are only strings of binary, patterns and codes to be fed through a machine.

Beauty is numbers. When a design is perfect, the equations and symbols are meaningful and complex. You see something impossible to comprehend, and so are defeated. We see a challenge, and spend our lives looking for that one answer.

You don't want to touch us. We are those who are to be locked away, to sustain you. We are not shunned (for how would you see without the candle maker?) but we are not welcomed.

We are the brilliant.

We are the unloved.


	37. And

Yes people, the Abstract is well and truly back in the room. Admit it, you missed it a bit.

Disclaimer: Surely I've done enough... what do you mean, some people have 500 chapters?

* * *

37 - And

There are eight in the room.

You walk in, tripping over yourself in the haste to explain away your actions. But they are you; they have always been you. They need no excuses.

They ask for news. You tell them the outside is bigger than the inside, and hope they will not ask for more. Because just this once, it was _your_ life. Not theirs, although they certainly put in their objections at the trial. It was yours, and you wanted to keep it.

But now it's over and all you can do is wait. You take your place in the line, wondering is this all there is? am I merely a part of the whole?

Too many voices compressed into one. Divided you stand. Together you are lost in the static.

You lose your own identity to gain theirs. The voices separate, then speak together. As one. You think, No! I would not say this. I would not do that. But you feel the loss of a long scarf, a multi-coloured coat, a velvet cape and are drowned out. You feel yourself allowing the voice to creep inside your head. A mind within a mind within a mind. You are One and your own song has ended.

There are nine in the room.

And you wait for the tenth.


	38. Affirmative

I kind of... hijacked this idea from Derek Metaltron. Forgive me?

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. But rest assured, K9 Mark 5 will be mine.

* * *

38 - Affirmative

At first, he was man's best friend. Well, _a_ man's best friend. Professor Marius, to be exact. Created to be both company and computer, sophisticated and at the height of his powers. He helped the Doctor at every turn, establishing himself as the most useful companion of all.

But then came the departure of Mistress Leela, and he knew that he needed to stay with her. The Doctor was clever; he could manage on his own.

He met his replacement only once, but somewhere deep in that metal heart, he felt the sting.

---

The new and improved had more problems than the original. E-Space damage and a bout of laryngitis left him useless to anyone but his new Mistress, trapped in her new world. And afterwards, on Gallifrey, he was little more than a scribe. Still a confidante, though.

He remembered his Master with pride - well, as much pride as a robot could ever hope to have.

---

A gift, this new version, and a loyal one. He stayed with Mistress Sarah for years, battling through worn-out circuits and electrical faults to help her as much as he could. Although his time grew short, with no hope of repair, he tried to keep her from worrying as long as possible. He knew what it was to be left behind, and something in his mind (programming?) told him to stay with her as long as possible. And in return, she gave him a purpose.

Maybe they needed each other.

---

Finally, he was new again. He was whole, and well, and loved. Despite leaving to spend years locked away, all humanity resting on his steel shoulders, this fourth time felt like the lucky one. He knew she had cried for him, and was glad.

Not just a tin dog, then.


	39. Film

I _tried_ to be happy. Really, I did. But it all came out wrong. Still. Madness abounds on Wednesday...

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even my soul. (The exams stole it from me. I'll get it back eventually...)

* * *

39 - Film

The first night aboard the TARDIS, they watch 'Shall We Dance'.

It's not a particularly brilliant film, just mindless fluff for the most part. But it happens with every companion since Lucie Miller, who had a DVD collection to rival HMV and insisted they watched a new film every week. He grew to love movie nights.

So now, every time someone new arrives, he cracks open the popcorn and Pick 'n' Mix and invites them into the TARDIS cinema.

Because the thing is, you can tell a lot from the way someone watches a film. Whether they're perfectly OK with the boundaries you've set, so they have no qualms about using you as a cushion. Whether they need to retain their independence, so they choose the spacious armchair that fits one and one only. If they whisper throughout or stare in rapt silence.

The part he really watches them at, though, is the 'We all need a witness to our lives' speech. He needs to know if they understand why he needs them, that the exotic stranger is not always the one with the happy ending. Some of them don't, and he knows they won't last long. Some of them do, and they're the ones that will promise forever.

But the ones that laugh, the ones that throw popcorn around like they own the place and steal the sweets from under his fingers - they're the ones that break his hearts.


	40. Us

First of all, an apology: to anyone who's been following Familiar and caught my little chapter blunder, I'm sorry. Fixed now.

And second, a challenge. Hit me with prompts. Seriously, give me anything and I'll have a go at it. The end result may not be what you had in mind, but I promise to (try to) entertain.

Disclaimer: Even the angst has deserted me. This one's just... meh. You'll see.

* * *

40 - Us

We're the ones who stay with him.

Others leave - they can't handle the life. But we love it.

We touched every single star you see above you. Not all of us, not all together, and sometimes long ago and not quite yet. But we claim the sky.

He likes to think he chose us all, but in truth we chose him. Whether we loved him like father, or brother, or lover, it was us who decided. We make the rules.

He could never understand why his precious TARDIS would aid us before him. Why he would go hunting through a hundred rooms looking for that one elusive tool, but we could lay our hands on anything that caught our eye on a whim.

The truth is, she always knew that we are the ones who keep him in line. The ones who aren't afraid to tell him the truth, or pull him away, or slap him senseless.

We are the Children of Time.


	41. Ships

Warning: brain explosion. I mean, seriously; after a solid week of angst, the crack!meter went up to eleven. If you're a Doctor/Rose, Doctor/Martha, Doctor/Jack or Donna/Jack fan, you might want to steer clear. And the only reason Doctor/Donna isn't up here is because I couldn't quite find any convoluted enough.

On another note, thank you to GeekyKeen for the prompt - it'll be up in a few days. If anyone has a prompt for me, they're gladly recieved.

Disclaimer: Different kind today: no, I am not attacking your personal fic. I am merely making observations. So no flames, please.

* * *

41 - Ships

Doctor/Rose:

Doctor, I came back for you! I know you said it was impossible, but I used my Super!BadWolf powers to… what do you mean, you took them out of me? I'm Rose! I'm special! So I kept them and somehow can control them without dying, even though it's not even possible for Time Lords - how? I'll explain later. So anyway, I used my Super!BadWolf powers to open the Void and cross safely so we could be together! I made myself immortal like Jack, and tied myself to the TARDIS so you and I could live forever with each other! I dumped the half-human freak and came back.

Why? Because I am your one true love, and in all your 900 years, you have never met anyone as flawlessly perfect as me! And by the way, you know when you left me on that beach and I said Mum was pregnant? I lied. Meet your daughter. I called her Gallifrey, even though she will be ridiculed at school, because I wanted you to share your home with me. What's your real name, my darling- wait, where are you going?

Doctor/Martha:

Doctor, I came back for you! You see, I know that when I left I was going to prove my independence by becoming a doctor and getting my own life, but I realised that by leaving, I would make you realise that your feelings for Rose were nothing compared to your feelings for me! I am prepared to forgive you for treating me so badly, because now you know the truth - that you love me so much more than you loved her.

Why? Because I am your one true love and in all of your 900 years you have never met anyone as clever and willing to put up with your mistakes- what do you mean, _Romana_? Who's she? Another ex? I'll forgive you though, because- wait, where are you going?

Doctor/Jack:

Doctor, I came back for you! Even though I am even more immortal than you, and destined to die as a giant head, I am the only person you can put your trust in. And although I have a relationship going with one member of my team, and am also in love with another, I will abandon them again in a second for you!

Why? Because I am your one true love and in all of your 900 years you have never met anyone with my cheeky wit and charm. I know you have never shown the slightest inclination to man-man love, but I am the one who can make you forget the pretty companions and see the Light of Gay, as foretold by the Great God Barrowman- wait, where are you going?

_And for the bonus round:_

Donna/Jack:

Donna, I came back for you! Because even though I am the biggest flirt that ever lived and have an inability to commit to one person, I saw your face when defeating the Daleks and fell for you instantly! You are the only one who can make me denounce my Casanova ways!

Why? Because I am your one true love, and in all of your 900... no, wait, 50... 21? How old are you anyway? OW! Oh, my darling, that was the Slap of Destiny! Because in all of your… years of life, you have never met anyone as brave and handsome as I. And I know that I will live long after you, and you don't remember me, but I am willing to take the risk of you burning so long as we are together- wait, where are you going?


	42. Anyone

Hello, people! Have we recovered from yesterday's crack!fest? Well, here's some almost-angst to bring you back down to Earth.

Disclaimer: I am quite happy to claim ownership of this parallel world. And I have the virtual papers to prove it.

* * *

42 - Anyone

In another world…

…Rose Tyler wasn't the last person out of Henrik's. It was her mate Shareen that took the Lottery money, who ran with the Doctor and travelled the Universe. And she didn't end up on a beach in Norway - she met a 32nd century man who convinced her to leave the travelling life. Rose ended up doing A-levels, going to college and getting a manager's job. Her kids had her smile and Mickey's eyes, and she learned that motherhood was enough of an adventure, thank you.

…Jack Harkness exchanged the Blitz for Pompeii. Tried to con a strange Sisterhood, heard the name 'Pyrovile' for the first time, and only just got out alive. Thank God for the mysterious pinstriped stranger and his water pistol. Meanwhile, a doctor lost his fiancée and the will to live, a technological genius spent her days locked in a U.N.I.T. cell, a Welshman mourned his girlfriend and a police woman lost her spirit in red tape and paperwork.

…Martha Jones hit her head hard enough to cause concussion in that _strange_ incident where everyone swore they'd been on the moon. More than half the hospital suffered from severe oxygen deprivation and fourteen people died. Martha drowned her sorrows whilst watching the news - they'd discovered a new Shakespeare play or something. Fat lot of good that was when the guy had been dead for years. Just a few words on paper.

…Astrid Peth ended up on a cruise liner heading for Mars. There was a bit of a scare when the engines broke down, but strangely they started back up as word got round that Mars was uninhabited. She never did get to see an alien sky.

And as for Donna Noble… well, we know what happened to her.

---

The Doctor opened his eyes as the threads of might-have-been faded from his sight.

Maybe the Universe wasn't better off without him after all.


	43. HalfEmpty

For GeekyKeen, a Nancy (EC/DD) ficlet with a happy ending. Prompts ahoy!

Disclaimer: Chris Eccleston doesn't want anything to do with DW, so I'll have his episodes. I'm working on DT...

* * *

43 - Half-Empty

Nancy didn't believe in optimism.

The glass was firmly half-empty with no refills on their way. She spent her life lying about her 'brother' and trying to forget the rush of affection that was in no way sororal, and in what way did that speak of a brighter future?

And then she lost him, oh _god_, she lost Jamie, and the full force of love for her child hit her like someone was wrenching her ribs open and burying her heart along with him.

So she took the lead and gathered the children of others. She hid them from what her little boy had become, full of food and empty of nightmares. She needed to protect someone. She could do this. She could help.

And then the Doctor came, and he made the hollow pain recede just a little. Because he was doing _something_, he was trying to help as well, and even though she didn't believe he could, she let herself hope. Because he tried.

Then -

The miracle man. Tiny points of light twisted through the air as he urged her _Go to him!_ So she did; she would no longer hide it. In front of all the assembled, all those who Jamie had touched with madness, she stood up and said _this is mine! I claim this as my own_.

Just this once, it worked. The curse was broken, the people waking from a gas-masked slumber, and the prince at the top of the tower was her own boy.

And suddenly she saw why the glass is only half-full; so that when the world tilts on its axis you don't lose a drop of ambrosia.

The fireflies danced, and she was a mother once more.


	44. Nudge

Needed a bit of Martha love. More tomorrow, when the angst makes a comeback. And for those who don't know, Alan Jackson is the father of one of Sarah Jane's little proteges, Maria. And they all live on Bannerman Road.

Prompts are good for the soul.

Disclaimer: I claim each and every person mentioned in this fic for any time they are not shown on screen.

* * *

44 - Nudge

Six-year-old Donna Noble pushed her way through the crowd, following her mother to _yet another_ shop and internally grumbling about not having a holiday this year. On the way, she passed a woman talking to her male friend, in a very loud (and later she realised, rather pointed) voice.

"No, we are _not _going to Strathclyde. _Especially_ not on a bus."

And the seeds of an idea were planted in her mind.

---

Alan Jackson clicked his way across an estate agent's website absent-mindedly. Since Chrissie was keeping the house, him and Maria needed somewhere else to live. But the places he'd gone to see so far were worse than useless.

The phone rang, startling him, and he almost dropped it as he answered.

"Mr. Jackson? It's Mar… Mary Johnson from the estate agent's. This house has just come up, and I thought it would be perfect for you. It's in a lovely area, do you know it? Bannerman Road…"

---

Dear Dr. Bell,

I am writing on behalf of U.N.I.T. to recommend a prospective medical student that you recently turned down at her interview. I know Grace Holloway can be a little forceful, but it is our belief that she has great potential…

---

Twelve-year-old Tegan Jovanka sat on a park bench swinging her legs. At school, they had been talking about careers, but she had no idea what she wanted to do with her life.

At first, she hardly noticed the woman who sat down next to her, but a few subtle questions later and she was spilling out the whole story.

"I'd like to meet people. Travel to new places. And…" she looked away shyly, "…I'd like to fly. Not a pilot though. Too much science."

"How about an air hostess?"

Perfect, Tegan turned to say. But the woman had already gone.

---

_Two hours earlier…_

"Well, Doctor Martha Jones. Day before your wedding and you wanted one last trip. So what's it to be?"

Martha looked from the skinny, frantic, lonely man in front of her to the room that, last time she was there, had been full of the largest family on Earth. She thought about the list in her pocket, carefully crafted after months of painstakingly checking U.N.I.T. files for every last detail. Her wedding present to the Doctor and the people who loved him.

"Actually, it's more like a series of little trips. I need to run a few errands…"


	45. Adequate

Probably the most personal thing I've ever written. All about our favourite medical student.

Disclaimer: By asking for prompts, I've even forfitted the right to the ideas.

* * *

45 - Adequate

Martha.

Martha Jones.

Doctor Martha Jones.

She had worked so hard for it. All her life, working, because if she couldn't do that then what was the point?

She had never been the socialite of the class. She was pretty enough, but with her head buried in those books and a touch of the upper-class 'you should know this already' attitude, the boys had never looked twice. And the girls… well, she'd never been into make-up and clothes. She had bigger fish to fry.

So she ignored the pleas of her mother to act 'normal', and threw herself into helping others. Life sometimes seemed so meaningless, and she just wondered, if she could make things better for someone else…

Medicine hadn't always been her career choice, though. She would see the politicians making such fools of themselves and thought _I could do it better._ Investigative journalism caught her eye, and for a couple of years she just _knew _that she could be the real Lois Lane, righting wrongs for all the world to see.

But then one day she caught a glimpse of those worlds. Corruption and greed, sadistic pleasure in the ruination of others, and she thought _I__'__m not like that_.

So she turned to science; lost herself in anatomy and disease. _Fix one person and it will all be worth it_.

Because the one thing Martha Jones was not was incapable.

And then she met the Doctor, and it was _so easy_. Travel the Universe, save everyone along the way, and know you matter.

But the way he looked at her… it was never her he was seeing. It wasn't just Rose that haunted his thoughts, it was the one before her, and the one before that, and the one before _that_…

She got the feeling he was comparing everything she did to those gone before, and had somehow found her lacking.

So she left. 'Chicken Soup for the Soul'-style stories had never interested her, and when faced with the achievements of others, she never felt inspired. Only… adequate.

And that was the worst criticism of all. Because if you were _adequate_, you were enough. Not the best, not special, not large enough to make any sort of impact at all. You merely _were_.

So when she met Donna, she understood better than the older woman thought. She knew how the Doctor could patronise you into adequacy without ever realising. Telling her she was brilliant only confirmed that she was not.

Just a temp, Donna said.

Maybe they were all temps in the end.


	46. Spark

No angst! Surprised? Of course, if you _really_ miss it, you could always find my new one-shot 'As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)'. It's about the end of the world. No, not the episode, the apocalypse. *shameless self-promoting*

Disclaimer: I own the right to send and receive reviews. I also own too much chocolate for my own good. So unless the Big D is made of chocolate...

* * *

46 - Spark

He doesn't plan it.

Or at least, he tells himself that. It's not a recruitment drive; there's no audition list or 'wanted' posters. He does his best to warn them off, even.

But somehow they always find him. The brave and the brilliant, those who need help and those who are lost. And he does what he can.

The one thing he never can see, though, is that there's a reason they're all human. Donna had it down; the gut instinct from Planet Earth. The one that makes compassion so natural, the one that looks for connections where there shouldn't be any. The one he so desperately wishes to possess.

And if Donna got a Time Lord mind, what did he get? You could say the ageing process was a gift, but that was more the loss of a heart. The other Doctor, split off, gave him the hurt and pain of a genocide, and handed over the love of a human girl. So did he gain Rose? A 'normal life'?

No. That was incidental. What he got was infinitely more precious.

He got that little spark of humanity.


	47. Tick

Who's talking here? I have no idea. What do you think?

Disclaimer: I reserve custody of a giant DW clock, with a Dalek cuckoo that exterminates a replica Cyberman on the hour. Not that such a clock exists.

* * *

47 - Tick

I think you can feel it sometimes.

The turn of the Earth. The ticking clocks. Can you hear them? Counting down to zero.

Endgame? Or have you another life left? One of those many get-out-of-jail-free cards that you give away so flippantly.

The drums. The clocks. They beat the same rhythm. The timbre alters but the message is the same.

A call to arms? Or just a call home?

No wonder your friend went mad. Oh, the sound was always there, urging him on to bigger, better, _greater_ things, but it only took him over after the War. Because without the singing of a million minds against your own, all you can hear is the voices in your own head.

But that's why you run, isn't it? Not to escape the death, but because when your feet are pounding on the ground the little _tick-tock_ at the back of your mind is well and truly drowned out. So you can forget that you are bound by the same constraints as the mere mortals you profess to love.

Time Lord. Your time draws near.

Three.

Two.

One.

_Zero._


	48. Permanence

Bonjour! Welcome to my world, where every Who line that strikes me as half-decent gets twisted into a fic that in no way resembles the original context. Now with added Donna!

Disclaimer: Guess. Just guess.

* * *

48 - Permanence

For the first half of my life nothing happened.

Nothing at all.

_I'm nothing special! I'm a temp!_

I was drifting from one place to another. Never let them tie you down. Never let them see the cracks.

And then I met a man called the Doctor.

And he showed me such wonderful things. The Beginning. The stars.

But oh… I let him fly away. I let him go in that little box of his, to be alone in those stars with the memories of that girl… her name was Rose. Is.

So I looked for him. Because I was wrong. He didn't need _someone_ to stop him. He needed _me._

I found him. Last place I expected to look, but I found him there. He always was impossible.

_Don't you _ever_ change?_

He took me away, so far from home. Saw the sights of the Universe: fireworks on Shalactor VI, an ice world with a liberated slave race, an anti-gravity restaurant on Malfair. Back to the future, towards the past. And I never wanted to leave.

_I'm gonna travel with that man forever._

And then came the War. Daleks and clones, time-children turned soldiers. All making port on a parallel beach.

And I felt it. The burning, the loss. I felt the tearing at the seams of my mind, but I was determined. I would not leave my Doctor.

_I want to stay._

It was not to be.

He took my mind; my essence. A man is the sum of his memories; a Time Lord even more so. And the meta-crisis? The half-breed?

Everybody knows that everybody dies, and nobody knows it like the Doctor.

He told my grandfather. Help me, he said, out in the rain. Don't leave her in the cold. Don't leave me alone.

In the end, it was me who closed that door. Back turned, head full of nothing, with a blasé 'see ya' to the only man who ever made me believe I was special.

My name is Donna Noble. And this is the story of how I died.


	49. Shove

Requested by Derek Metaltron - a sequel to 'Nudges'. Also managed to work your prompt for Susan in here, but I've got more plans for her at some point. Hope you enjoy...

Disclaimer: Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey. One day it will be mine.

* * *

49 - Shove

Sometimes, Martha Jones grumbled, people just don't know what's good for them.

She had been sat for half an hour in the staffroom of the school she had just 'acquired' a job at, complaining loudly to everyone who passed about _that strange girl Susan Foreman _and how _someone should go and see her parents_. Unfortunately, her helpful U.N.I.T. list hadn't included pictures of Barbara Wright and Ian Chesterton, so she had to make do with hinting to everyone.

To her unmitigated embarrassment, the former of these two had just asked her if she was alright, was she lost, and would she like someone to take her home?

_Great,_ Martha thought. _They think I'm mad_.

And to add insult to injury, she bumped straight into the girl in question on her way out of the building.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Martha said, quickly forming a back-up plan in her head. "Listen, Susan, is it? Could you do me a favour?"

"Of course, Miss." Susan looked slightly suspicious, though.

Martha pulled her off to the side, round a corner so they were hidden from view.

"Look," she said in a low voice, the words spilling out quickly, "I'm from the future and I know the Doctor. And I know this is strange, but I need you to believe me. Can you act a bit… odd over the next couple of days?"

"Odd in what way?" It was difficult to tell what Susan was thinking. _She'd make a great poker player with a face like that, _thought Martha.

"Just… I don't know. Start rambling about dimensions in time, and correct their history. Enough to make them want a home visit."

For the first time, Susan looked truly horrified. "I can't bring them _home. _Not back to the TAR-" she broke off, pressing her lips together tightly as if to stop herself revealing any more secrets.

"TARDIS?" completed Martha. "Look, if you don't trust me…" She remembered what Donna had told her while they were all swapping stories after defeating the Daleks. Something about telepathy? "Do that… Time Lord mind meld thing where you read my thoughts. I'm telling the truth."

Susan's face lit up and she lifted her fingers to Martha's temples without warning. Martha just had enough time to hastily construct some mental walls around her 'future knowledge' (thank God for U.N.I.T. training) when the enthusiasm of a girl desperately wanting to practise her telepathy skills invaded her mind.

Sharing minds was… odd, to say the least. Martha had read books which had described the feeling of having someone else in your head, but no words could quite capture the sense of _not being alone_. Especially when the other person was rifling through your thoughts more than a little inexpertly.

Martha stood still, letting Susan take her time. She shared her joy at travelling in time and space, her deep respect for what the Doctor did, the potential that the crotchety old man had. Her sadness at the death of those they couldn't save, her first alien planet - everything about her life was shared. The only feelings she kept to herself were those of her former unrequited love - didn't want the poor girl getting confused.

Finally, Susan pulled away, smiling slightly. "OK, I believe you. So what was it you wanted me to do?"

Startled by her sudden change of heart, Martha floundered. "Er, well, just sort of… make them worry about you. Sort of… make them think you're not right in the head. Especially," she placed heavy significance on the words, "Miss Wright and Mr. Chesterton. OK?"

"OK," said Susan. And then she skipped off, back round the corner as if nothing had happened.

Martha shook her head slightly in disbelief. _Oh, the resilience of the young_ Then she wondered when she had stopped thinking of herself as 'the young' and decided she really didn't want to know. Pulling her list out of her pocket, and with a single glance at Susan's retreating back, she walked out of the school with her head held high, towards the man waiting patiently beside a little blue box.


	50. Fifty

We made it to fifty! I can't believe it! Congratulations to everyone who made it this far with me. I offer cookies.

And in honour of this auspicious occasion, have a deleted scene from Journey's End. Imaginatively titled, isn't it?

Disclaimer: I own the number fifty. Hence, I own the Crusader 50 from Midnight. Hence, I own the episode Midnight. My logic is irrefutable.

* * *

50 - Fifty

"Liar!"

Jack Harkness slammed the bottle of Ol' Janx Spirit down onto the TARDIS kitchen table and glared at the sheepish men standing across the room. "You are _not _903. Not even close!"

"I _am_." The Doctor replaced his bashful look with an indignant pout, angled towards Sarah for backup.

"Oh, no," she warned, waving her hands in surrender, "you are not bringing me into this one."

"Well, he told me he was 900 when I met him," called Rose, who was perched precariously on a worktop beside Martha. The two of them had been whispering conspiratorially for the past five minutes, and had made a pact only to rejoin the conversation when it would cause the Doctor maximum embarrassment. Payback.

"Oh, well because he said it, it _must _be true." Jackie was not on the Doctor's side. As usual.

Mickey, who had been determinedly ignoring the banter since it first began, drained his whiskey and gently tugged the bottle from Jackie's grasp. Emboldened by this small victory over the woman with a slap from Hell, he turned in the direction of the DonnaDoctor. "Go on, then. How old are you really?"

The DonnaDoctor had a pout to match his double's. "I'm not telling you _anything,_ Rickey."

And as one, the Children of Time turned to the one person who would take absolute delight in revealing any and all secrets she could find in her newly gained memories.

Donna smirked. "Two thousand, seven hundred and eight. Give or take fifty years."

The stunned silence that followed was broken by Jack lecherously looking the Doctors - both of them - up and down. "Looking good on it. I'd kiss you again."

"Again?" Martha leaned in, sensing that this was her embarrassment cue. "Do tell."

"Long story short? Bunch o' Daleks-"

A short round of applause and a couple of whoops followed those words.

"-thought I was gonna die, which I did, and kissed him an' Rose."

Everyone in the room turned to Rose, who had a smug smile on her face. "It was a good kiss."

Both Doctors looked hurt by this. "What about my kiss?" protested the DonnaDoctor.

"Your kiss with Jack?" Mickey grinned.

"My kiss with Rose. It was to save her life!" the Doctor yelped, backing away from the thunderous look on Jackie Tyler's face so quickly that at least one drink went flying.

Rose's smile grew even wider. "Yeah, _that _one was."

Jackie was close to exploding.

"You kissed me! And you were possessed!" exclaimed the Doctor, trying (and failing) to contain the situation.

"Hang on." Martha frowned. "You kissed her? You kissed me as well!"

"I did not!"

"Oh, sorry, _genetic transfer_."

Jackie's face had turned purple, but this time with the effort of not laughing.

Then Martha delivered the killer blow. "So, do all your genetic transfers use tongue?"

Laughter exploded from every person except the Doctors.

"So," Donna continued the conversation a few minutes later as if they hadn't just witnessed an interesting occurrence in which Jackie laughed and snorted whiskey out of her nose at the same time. "They get the good kisses, and I get the one with anchovies?"

"That was to save _my _life! And once again, you kissed me."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, you wanted a shock."

"Is there anyone in the room that _hasn't_ kissed the Doctor?" Sarah was an unwilling participant in a topic which had rapidly got out of hand, but had been overcome by her journalistic instincts. And her desire to see the Doctor suffer. "Apart from me, of course. _Not_ that I want to."

"He hasn't kissed himself," Jack supplied with a look that plainly said 'let's put that right'. That was, of course, before he spotted Jackie going an interesting shade of pink. "Really? Jackie Tyler, I thought better of you."

"Oh, stop it. I was just glad he'd brought Rose home." She glowered defensively at Jack, then a slow grin spread across her face. She would make the Doctor pay for this. "Well, if we're doing the rounds, we should really make sure we've been thorough. And since Sarah's already backed out, and kissing himself doesn't really count, there's only one person in the room who hasn't done the deed."

The Doctor paled. So did his double. Everyone else merely smirked as dawning realisation turned to horror on the face of the person in question.

"Mickey."


	51. Alpha

Beware - the abstract is back.

Alpha/Omega for Derek Metaltron - dammit, your prompts make me work. Open invitation, people: keep 'em coming.

And... just tipped 100 reviews! Love to all!

Disclaimer: Omega's story is a Time Lord myth. No one can own a myth. But I'm prepared to try.

* * *

51 - Alpha

At first there was Us. And We made the world, and shaped it in Our image. And it was good.

And then there was You. And Me. I was the star, the engineer of light, and You were the glory, the pomp and circumstance for all to fear. You took their admiration and made it adoration. And for You, it was good.

I stood in the shadows, watching You and all that was Yours. Yes, we worked together for the common cause, but it was we. It was not We.

Brothers-in-arms. You turned Me away at the gates of freedom. You stole the life of a god and claimed dominion over all. I lit the lamps, you merely lifted the candle to the window.

Do You think of Me? An ivory tower in a glass coffin, do You think of Me and the games We played?

Take your King. The Controller or the Healer, your choice. They are only pawns, toys that we use to reflect our nature. You think of Yourself as the _man who makes people better_, but all You ever did was take all things for Yourself. Do You wonder which one is Yours? I don't.

And what of your Queen? The Granddaughter, the President, the Copy, the Half-Breed? Or do you claim Gallifrey herself?

Play Your games. Mark out the stars on a map, to watch and never to reach. See Your world in black and white squares.

You are the beginning, the sunrise and creator. I am the end. The darkness.

I claim my rightful place.

Omega.


	52. Questions

For IfEaRnOfIsH - regeneration. Well, more like the aftermath of regeneration. The 'before' picture is back in 'Duende' (C16). Hope you like!

As a side note, I'm going to France for two weeks on the 25th, so there'll be no updates for a bit. But that's two weeks away, so on with the show for now...

Disclaimer: I'll take the Children In Need Special. No, really, I will. I'll even give it a proper name.

* * *

52 - Questions

I'm scared, Rose.

I won't say it often. The other me, the old me, wouldn't have said it at all. But I'm afraid I've lost you.

You look at me like I'm a stranger. You think I'm a _Slitheen_, of all things. You can't understand, that little human brain of yours doesn't quite get the fact that _I'm not human_.

Maybe Slitheen wasn't so far off the mark.

I'll try to convince you. I'll take your hand, and tell you to run, and save the day like I always do. And someday, maybe, you'll believe me.

But not today.

I can see it in your eyes, Rose. You think I can't possibly be the same as him, because you trust him. You don't trust me. And it hurts.

Because how can I convince you I'm the same man when I don't know what sort of man I am?

I'll break your heart. I'll leave you behind, and make the wrong decision, and at the end of it you'll still hold my hand. But somewhere behind your eyes will be that little nagging doubt - _my Doctor wouldn't do this. The real Doctor, the _proper_ Doctor, he'd save us._

I don't want to lose you.

So I'll ask you again: will you come with me? Will you see the stars by my side?

Rose Marion Tyler, will you run?


	53. Spectators

For the ever faithful Derek Metaltron, who wanted a sequel to 'And' (C37). Not quite sure if this is what you had in mind - it's a little more, light-hearted, shall we say...

Disclaimer: My TV. You hear me? Mine.

* * *

53 - Spectators

Nine men sit in a room watching TV.

It's a strange sort of TV - there's only one channel - but they sit on a plain leather sofa in one line talking about what they see on screen. And sometimes they take it in turns to pick on one another.

Today, it's the turn of the Northern man sitting at the far end.

"You know I had no choice!"

"You had plenty of choices. I, as this current fellow once said, could save the world with a kettle and some bits of string. And you lost Gallifrey." The man about half-way along wearing a stick of celery on his lapel sighs briefly at the end of this speech, as if resigned to the fact that it's going to be one of _those _days.

"It was _misplaced_. And I didn't do it on purpose! It wasn't even _me_ that did it!"

"You missed a few out, as well," says a quaint little man with a recorder in his hand.

"Will you put that dratted thing away?" interjects a distinguished cape wearer, swiping at the instrument.

"I had the chance to end it all, once," a man with a slightly ridiculous scarf announces, seemingly oblivious to the childish struggle occurring between Recorder and Cape.

The curly-haired Victorian poet next to Northern turns to scowl at Scarf. "Oh, it's always about you, isn't it? I actually _did_ end it, and you don't hear me complaining!"

"No," replies the small question-marked laden man, gesturing to Northern. "But we do hear _him_ complaining."

"Shush!" chastised the old man perched on the left.

"It's just getting interesting!" agreed a man swathed in the proverbial Technicolour Dreamcoat.

As one, they turned back to the TV, and from then on chaos ensued.

"What's he doing that for?"

"Oh, that's not right…"

"Did she _really_ just…"

"Oh, I recognise her!"

"I recognise all of them. Are they all turning up?"

"What the…"

"Oh, he's ruined it now!"

And as the screen blanked out for a few moments in a haze of yellow light, a pinstriped man appeared on the edge of the sofa, wearing a mad grin and a pair of glasses.

"Budge up!"


	54. Home

For xAngelus's Darlax, who wanted Susan. Semi-sad, hint of future. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Susan's son belongs to Big Finish. The rest are mine- I mean, the BBC's.

* * *

54 - Home

Sometimes Susan Foreman regretted leaving her TARDIS key behind.

It wasn't that she didn't love David and her son; of course she did. It was just that sometimes, in the dead of night when she couldn't sleep, she would look up at those stars and think of her grandfather. And without a tangible reminder of her old life, she would sometimes wonder if it ever really happened.

---

She met him again. Four different versions of him actually, and she was so disorientated by the familiar feeling of running for her life that she forgot to give him hell about making her decisions for her.

Afterwards, when she was back with her family, she asked herself if she really wanted to thank him, but her subconscious was strangely silent.

---

Thirtieth wedding anniversary, and Susan was starting to panic. Somewhere at the back of her mind she always knew her Gallifreyan genes would slow the ageing process, but at no point has she properly considered the thought of outliving David. Now it's all she _can _think about.

She looked one last time at her twenty-year-old face in the mirror, and went down to rejoin the party.

---

Susan stands at David's grave, a fresh bunch of flowers in her hand. He was far too young, she thinks. Even by human standards.

She turns towards her son, smiles sadly, and walks away from her husband for the last time. As she goes, she thinks about the good times - their wedding, Alex's first day at school, their first holiday as a family.

The tears in her eyes never quite make it down her face.

---

Sometimes Susan Campbell regrets leaving her TARDIS key behind.

And then she remembers.


	55. Kiss

Sequel to 'Fifty' (Chapter... you guessed it... 50), requested by writergal01 - Spin the Bottle, Children of Time style. It... got away from me...

Disclaimer: Anyone who finds the Hitchhiker's reference gets the deeds to DW. Trufax.

* * *

55 - Kiss

Donna had a big smile on her face. The cameras she had set up had filmed last night's 'events' perfectly. And the best thing was, she had put them in place _in front _of everyone - and every single one of them was too drunk to notice.

She slid the disc (TARDIS-made, so perfect editing from every angle, thank you very much) into the DVD player, and settled down with a big box of Pick 'N' mix.

There was a knock at the door.

"Donna," said a head as it peeked round the door with messy blonde hair and eyes narrowed against the light. "Where are the… oh my God! What am I doing?"

The Rose on screen was stood on the kitchen table, waving a bottle of Ol' Janx Spirit.

"_Right, then! Who's up for a game of Spin the Bottle?"_

"_Oh, not for me, thanks," replied Sarah, swaying from side to side. "I've had enough. I'm going to bed."_

"_Aww!" complained Jack, using the little-boy-pout that he only brought out when he was too inebriated to care. "Spoilsport."_

Jack stumbled into the room and crash-landed with his head in Donna's lap. She nudged him on the floor with one hand, offering the Pick 'N' Mix to Rose with the other. Jack stayed where he was on the floor, but turned his head towards the screen.

" '_For Auld Lang Syne, my dear, for Auld Lang Syne!' " the two Doctors clutched each other's hands, waving them in the air as they sang. Martha staggered over and, with a great effort, moved to stand in the middle of them with her back to the rest of the room._

"_You're not s'posed to sing that _now_, it's for _Nuyeers_," she admonished, wagging a finger at the cabinet _

_It was at this point that Jackie decided to make good on the earlier conversation about kisses and span the single bottle that Rose had not yet smashed with her feet. It wobbled unconvincingly until she stopped it with her hand._

"_Doctor! You're kissing…" The bottle wobbled again. "Mickey!" she announced with triumph._

Mickey himself walked in, looking remarkably cheery considering last night's alcohol consumption. He was, however, supporting one Doctor on each arm; the two of them were unceremoniously dropped onto Donna, where they both snuggled in like little boys to their mother. The one on her left (she couldn't tell which one it was, as they had both swapped suits several times last night. In front of everyone.) widened his eyes at the pictures on-screen, but obviously had little energy to do anything else.

"_Mickety-mick-mick-mickey!" crowed the brown-suited Doctor, although which one he actually was had become anyone's guess. The person in question reached his arms out towards the Doctor and waddled his way over. The two proceeded to have possibly the longest snog of their collective lives._

"How did they do that?" wondered Sarah Jane, who had just wandered into the room with Jackie. (Until now, the two of them had been outside discussing the merits of various hangover cures.) "I mean, I know the Doctor's got a respiratory bypass system, but…"

"Mickey's like a fish when it comes to breathing," Jackie explained. "Can hold 'is breath for ages. Never worked out how he does it."

Mickey, who was now an interesting shade of purple, turned to Donna and, in a voice that was caught mid-way between dire embarrassment and menace, said "Get rid of that. Burn it, smash it, whatever. Just get rid of it."

Donna's grin became even wider. "Oh, no way. And just you wait 'till I get the tape from the corridor…"


	56. Identity

Apologies for the lateness - my Internet crashed.

For xAngelus's Darlax - Romana I into Romana II. Prompts make me happy.

Disclaimer: I'll take the mirror, but the TARDIS is probably too heavy to carry.

* * *

56 - Identity

You look in the mirror. You're not sure who you're going to see looking back at you.

Because your world used to be painted with a palette of black and white; you had no time for those who dabbled in grey. You knew the world and your place in it. You were happy.

But then the Doctor came to call.

And oh, how he trampled on your dreams. Took your carefully constructed painting and threw his own colours on it, all clashing contradictions and bright colours. You tried to keep your distance from him, but somehow the positions switched and now it's Gallifrey you're pulling away from.

You look in the mirror. You're not happy with what you see.

Because this face, this body, belongs to the world you left behind. It doesn't quite fit with who you are now; like forcing a round peg into a square hole. The gaps are plainly seen, but not so easily filled.

Gallifrey meant stability, and knowing exactly what to do because many had done it before you. Travelling means unpredictability, running for your life and reaching for a hand that shouldn't be there but somehow always is.

The difference, you think, is in the tenses.

You look in the mirror. And you _change_. You become someone you like - _you_, not some nameless official who decided for you. For perhaps the first time in your life, you are your own person.

You're not quite sure what to do with that, so you choose your clothes to match the Doctor's. After all, you're new at this. Need to model the new life on someone before you take it your own abstract way.

You look in the mirror. Yesterday, Romana looked back.

Now you're not so sure.


	57. Footsteps

Sorry for the lateness - I was dead on my feet yesterday.

For Derek Metaltron: 'stepping into history'. Because my love of 'Guess the characters' knows no bounds. (As does my love of prompts. Hint hint...)

Disclaimer: I completely own the place where this is set. I'm not entirely sure where it is, but when I find it it's mine.

* * *

57 - Footsteps

First steps in a time gone before your own - again. You've been here before.

And you're running out of places to hide.

Unperturbed, you duck behind a pillar that's barely big enough to conceal you. You know you look different, and she won't recognise you now, but if the corner of her eye counts the shadowy figures, then it could be the end of the Universe.

End of your Universe.

But you can't stop yourself. You won't even try. Because here she is, in front of you, laughing like she always did and it's all you can do not to touch her. Accidentally brush past, knock her over, take her hand and smile as you pull her to her feet, take her away before…

Your daydreams have a nasty habit of coming back to the end.

So for now, you're content to watch. To lose yourself in her history, because it's all you have left.

And then _he_ arrives. The pinstriped idiot, too blind to see what he was about to lose. If he had known, would he have done it differently? Would he have changed at all?

Then you remember - he's you. And you know exactly what you would have done if you'd known.

You would have taken her away in your magical machine, locked her up tight in a box with a mandarin sky and kept her safe. You needed her safe.

You didn't keep her safe.

But it won't stay that way. Last time you lost someone, you gave it up as a bad job. Contented yourself with impossibility and shifted your focus to the brash and the bold.

Not this time. This time you save her. This time she comes home to rest at your side. She promised forever and you're there to make her keep it.

You haven't found the answer yet - all your ideas thus far have been rendered useless as soon as paper reached up to mark itself with pen. But you know that all you need is that one brilliant flash, as bright as her smile, and you'll know exactly how to cut through the misty mire that currently holds you to this place.

And as she walks away, you do the same, knowing that all around you your past selves are joining your reflection on the dread that increases each time you pass her way. You've watched her here many a time, and you're dreading the moment when there is no longer enough room in the area to see her and remain unseen.

You walk back home and leave her there, safe for a little while longer in the confines of time and memory. And you know that for every set of footprints you left there in the past, there is another from your future that leads further and further away from her.

Retracing your steps.

An idea sparks, and you run for her life.


	58. Haunted

Warning: Abstract to the max. My brain went ka-boom. Luckily, it's also very short.

Disclaimer: I _must_ be Queen of Abstract by now. I've worked my socks off for it!

* * *

58 - Haunted

Run from your ghosts.

Runrunrunrunrun.

If they catch you, they never let you go.

They see right through you.

You will not let them see.

Would not. Could not. Should not.

Dare not?

Defences up. Lightning mind-barriers to chase the night away.

Never let them see you. Never let them catch you. Night and storm and heart of Sun.

Sun. Run. Leave behind.

If you stay, you lose yourself.

But then you remember-

Ghosts can walk through walls.


	59. Billy

From martha smith's prompt - Billy Shipton's new life in 1969. Right barrel of laughs, ol' Billy.

Disclaimer: If I invent a world in 1969 I automatically claim all episodes of DW aired before then. I'm not lying, or anything.

* * *

59 - Billy

1969.

Four numbers that define everything that is wrong with Billy Shipton's life.

Not a single digit in its proper place.

---

Sally is the first person to look at him like a human being.

Not Sally Sparrow, of course - she iss locked away in a time not yet come. Sally Copperfield. And despite racial prejudice being alive and well and making a home for itself in the eyes of every person who looked Billy's way, Sally treats him no different to anyone else. And he loves her for that.

So he asks her out. She asks why, and "Because life is short and-" slips out before he checks himself and finishes with "-I know a little restaurant round the corner.

She said yes, and he thanks his lucky stars that the Doctor has given him enough money to allow total freedom for the rest of his life.

---

Marry me.

Two little words. He hopes for one from her - starts with a 'y'.

To take his mind off things, he sets about reading the slim file the Doctor gave him containing everything he could wish to know about the history of the DVD. The company he invested in yesterday will be instrumental in the 'rise of the disc', as well as making those seventeen precious DVDs.

He may not be cleaning up the streets, but in a way he's still saving the world.

---

A country house, three children and a dog later, Billy's retiring early.

Money pours in from all sides - he's managed to branch out into all sorts of products. His private motto is 'if I've heard of it, it'll be big in the future'. That philosophy has kept the kids fed for years. Sally doesn't understand how he does it, and frequently tries to find out. She does not, however, complain when he buys her jewellery.

---

The last years of his life draw slowly by until at last the elusive Sparrow is due to fly in. His Sally passed on a few years ago and the kids (and grandkids) are at the other side of the world. No one at his deathbed except little Sally. Not that he's complaining.

Day after day, he watches the clock crawl by. He spends the last days of his life waiting to save hers - ironic, really.

The clock hands reach their destination. The rain in which he met her has just begun.

He listens for the door.


	60. Committed

Inspired by an LJ quote (the first line).

Hello, you people! Tomorrow will be my last update for a couple of weeks (those pesky holidays!). You can stop cheering now.

Disclaimer: I am the mistress of puns. Hence the title...

* * *

60 - Committed

"Relax! I've seen the end of the Universe. This isn't it."

These words did nothing to reassure the pitchfork-bearing peasants bearing down on Rose and the Doctor. In fact, they only served to enrage the crowd further, judging by the flaming torches being brandished inches from Rose's nose.

"I thought you promised to help them!" she hissed menacingly, all the while backing away and becoming ever more conscious of the cliff edge five feet from her back.

"I did! I swore to protect their lands and their people from the upcoming apocalypse!" he retorted.

"Then what went wrong?"

"Swearing is a crime against God, apparently."

Rose made an indistinct noise and started to mutter under her breath about the recovery rates of Time Lords after the removal of their 'personal possessions'.

The Doctor made no reply, but paled significantly, unwittingly moving his hands to protect said possessions. He then seemed to make a decision, and walked confidently towards the crowd.

"Right…" Rose rolled her eyes. _Here we go again. Big speech about peace in our time and why-can't-we-just-be-friends._

"I know we got off on the wrong foot," he began, "and I'm sorry about that. But really - is violence the answer? My friend and I come from a far-off land to bring a message of peace to you - peace in our lands, peace in our time. Why should we not be friends? My words were not meant as an insult. Instead, I promise to aid you in every way within my power. In return, all I ask is that you grant the two of us asylum for a little while, until we can reclaim our transportation."

The villagers lowered their various weapons slightly, and whispered among themselves. The Doctor wandered back over to Rose, who had been smirking throughout his speech, and said "I told you. Piece of cake!"

The leader looked Rose in the eye and announced "We have made our decision…"

---

Rose struggled in vain against the straightjacket and glared at the Doctor for the twenty-eighth time in two minutes. "Piece of cake?"

"Yes, well," he scowled as he tugged at his own restraints. "I didn't know that the only asylum they'd heard of was for lunatics!"

Rose's glower intensified, and the Doctor was suddenly very fearful for his 'precious possessions'.


	61. Interim

Last post before the Great Void! Thanks to xAngleus's Darlax for the prompt. Consider this a prequel to 'Fifty' and 'Kiss'.

Also, big shout out to James Birdsong, who has been diligently reviewing every chapter since 22 - in one day. In answer: don't worry, my ego is in no danger of inflation. Your comments, good and bad are much appreciated, and I'm choosing to take 'not truely greatly terrible' as a compliment. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I'm sick of 10.5, so I decided on DonnaDoctor. Turn about is fair play. Now tell that to RTD.

* * *

61 - Interim

"Your head is _weird_."

The DonnaDoctor's female counterpart moved to lean beside him against the TARDIS railings. He tilted his head towards her. "What's wrong with it? You never complained about _his _head!" he said, holding one hand to the offended body part.

Donna whacked him lightly on the arm. "I meant your mind, stupid. Always jumping around. No wonder you don't stay still, I don't think you could stand it!"

He frowned slightly, staring into space as he did the calculations. It took him longer than normal, what with that little bit of human, but eventually…

His eyes went wide in terror and he grabbed Donna into a hug. Not her, please, leave her alone…

"What…" She returned the gesture hesitantly, then pulled back. He didn't let go, though. "What's wrong?"

He licked his lips, searching for the words that could test her without her magnificent Time Lord brain figuring it out. "My mind. How does it feel?"

"I don't…"

His face was inches from hers as he stared earnestly into her eyes, his worries about her figuring it out falling away by the second. "Tell me how it feels," he ordered.

"It feels…" she faltered before continuing. "It's like the world's spinning. Like everything around me's moving and I… I _understand _it. It's shifting in front of my eyes, all this information _all the time_, and I get it. I want to know more."

He relaxed his grip marginally, but still held on. "You're brilliant, Donna-" she scoffed and he shook her slightly. "No, I mean it. With or without that thing in your head, you're brilliant. And you have to understand that. You have to _know_."

She placed her own hands on his arms, mirroring his stance. "S'funny… I thought being a bit of you would help me understand you, but I still don't have a clue."

The DonnaDoctor laughed humourlessly, then drew her in for another hug, whispering in her ear. "Donna Noble, you have saved my life in so many ways."

She grinned as she pulled away, remembering another time he'd said those words. "Still the Doctor, then. No identity crisis?"

"Not a bit." In fact, he'd never felt more himself. And true to form, a brainwave sparked. If her mind was too inebriated to arrange information, it could buy her another night…

Then he realised the 'proper' Doctor had thought of this hours ago, and that was the reason he'd taken the rest of them deep into the TARDIS depths to find alcohol. And just for a second, he felt inadequate.

Then Donna took his hand, smiled that smile, and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Come on, then. Let's go find the others… Earth Man."

As she walked away, he clung on tight, and his single heart cracked down the middle.


	62. Freedom

I'M BACK, BABY!

*ahem* I mean, if you were with me before the break, welcome back. If you've just joined us, welcome.

Prompt by GeekyKeen - told you I'd get it written eventually. Open invitation: prompts are appreciated.

Disclaimer: I do not own France, and I spent two weeks there. Spending two weeks in the Whoniverse has much the same effect.

* * *

62 - Freedom

Oliver pulled yet another piece of scrap metal from the pile and threw it on the fire for melting. He smiled grimly at the girl with the wheelbarrow and moved to rearrange the precarious pile she was throwing its contents on to. She looked exhausted.

He went over yesterday's conversation in his mind. (They always had conversations in the daytime. The Metal Men seemed to be more strict at night.) Every child offered a dream of escape, each one wildly different from the last.

All of them wrong, though. Because you see, Oliver _knew_ things. Things he couldn't possibly know, and usually before they happened. So he knew that no long-lost parents were coming, no police would storm through the door.

What would happen, though, was that a man would arrive. He may be alone, or he may be with others - that bit wasn't clear yet. But a stripy man would get them all out.

He told the others. They wouldn't believe him.

---

Two days (nights?) later, the stripy man turned up. He wasn't alone.

Oliver noticed the man and woman, all fancy coats and red dresses, but that wasn't what he focused on. Because Oliver could also _see_ things that other people couldn't. Things that hurt them. And what he could see around the stripy man were-

People.

Most of the people were faint, barely noticeable. Shimmers in the air, standing in the background and half-forgotten. But others were brighter and closer. There was a blonde girl, faded but flickering, as if she wasn't quite sure whether to exist or not. A darker woman, disappearing rapidly until she was standing in line with the shimmers.

But the brightest person, the one that throbbed like blood from a cut and was almost solid, was a redhead. She was standing very close to the stripy man, and the sadness in her eyes exactly matched the look hovering just out of reach behind his.

Oliver wasn't stupid. He knew that pain for this man was the people who surrounded him. So when Oliver was leaving, when the red lady was ushering them out and the shimmers were just that little bit darker under the rush to save the world, he whispered 'I'm sorry' to the stripy man.

He didn't know if he was heard.

---

Later that night, as Oliver was getting into bed, there was a knock at the door. And walking straight in without waiting for an answer was the stripy man, closely followed by the redhead. She was stood with one hand on his shoulder, but wasn't throbbing any more. She seemed even more solid, though, as the man stood in the centre of the room silently.

He seemed to think carefully for a minute. Then he knelt down beside Oliver, looked into his eyes, and said 'Thank you'.

And then they were gone.


	63. Retcon

I am inordinately proud of this one. No particular reason - it's rushed and scattered and jerks about. But I like it.

Thanks to xAngelus's Darlax for the prompt - TorchFic ahoy!

Disclaimer: I own random transitions between shows. Which means that The Stolen Earth is mine.

* * *

63 - Retcon

Jack sits - or rather, slumps - at the bar in a galaxy far far away from a planet in no way resembling Earth. Of course, at this point his name isn't Jack, but that is the label applied by the visitor about to arrive. Jack-who-is-not-Jack has fifteen different shots in front of him, and is swilling each one around in his mouth before spitting it back out; rather like a wine-taster. All of the flavour, none of the hangover.

The aforementioned visitor now puts in an appearance. He would have seemed desperate at first glance, but looking more closely would have yielded the impression of a weary man who moved purely because there was nothing else he could do. Not so much eyes too old for his face, as a face far too young for his eyes.

None of this is particularly remarkable. What is remarkable is the fact that the stranger's face is identical to Not-Jack's. Said stranger casts one slow look around the bar, then rests his eyes on his double and walks to the bar.

"Jack."

Not-Jack doesn't look up. "You've got the wrong person."

A sigh. "No. Just the wrong name. One day you will be Jack."

Not-Jack turns his head, registering no surprise at seeing his own face on someone else. "Why are you here? You know the rules. Paradox, and all that jazz."

At this, the stranger looks away, sighing heavily. His next words shake with emotion, gradually gaining in feeling until two defiant drops of water decide to race towards his chin. "Because… you need to know. I didn't, I never had a choice, and I _need_ to have the choice, do you see?" And he looks into Not-Jacks eyes, leaning forward in earnest. "I have to know that it was inevitable, it would always have been that way. I need to _know_ that there was nothing I could have done.

"You have to choose for me. Decide which way to go. There's always a choice, left or right, yes or no, him or her, and I have to know I was right. Or wrong.

"So I'm sorry. I'm really very sorry."

And the stranger lifts two fingers to Not-Jack's temples.

Time Agency telepathy. It had always been tricky, but Not-Jack can tell his future self has been practicing. There are no fumbling fingers at the catch on the door, no clumsy spill of emotion. Just clear precise images.

And oh, what images.

_World War II. Blonde girl on barrage balloon. Northern man with smaller-on-the-outside box. Death. Pain. Abandoned even though you keep coming back again and again and again. And the Torchwood Institute, years and years and people just sitting there. Passing through, a foreign prisoner of the underground. Then a change - a handpicked team. Not from your country, but at least they speak the language. Love previously unknown. Grief tastes of sushi and smells of disinfectant. A framed picture, an alter to lyrical vowels and two people with nothing to choose between them. Fatherhood, grandfatherhood, and then-_

_makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop_

_-the glass smashes in the frame. The choice is made for you because one of them is gone. And you kill everything, you lose everything, everything has its time and-_

_I Can't Even Stand To Look At Her Anymore_

_-you don't come back. You run and you hide because the childish games are all you have. You can't see her, so you can't lose her. Not her too. Please._

The images fade, and Not-Jack reels backwards. In less than ten seconds his eyes have learnt to mirror those of the stranger and he clutches for the shots, knocking one over as he tries to throw them all down as quickly as he can, because he _doesn't want to feel like this_…

Then the shots are gone, and he comes to his senses. The stranger has been watching his reaction with a detached calm that usually comes from a soldier readying himself to shoot the enemy. Neither of them say anything.

Then Not-Jack makes a decision. "There's nothing you could have done."

The stranger looks suspicious, but hopeful. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. And running away from her is not going to make her safer."

"But-"

"But nothing. She dies, her husband, her baby, and you weren't there? Then congratulations. You killed the full set." The stranger looks devastated, but Not-Jack ploughs on. "She needs you. She said that. Her husband, her child, they're not enough. She asked you to come back for her. Now stop being such a damn fool and go back to the one person who still loves you no matter how many hours you put into being a selfish jackass. And give me the blue pill already. I don't need to spend eternity with this in my brain."

For the first time, a flicker of a ghost of a smile crosses the stranger's face. "The pill is white."

"Have you never seen 'The Matrix'? "

The stranger buys one final shot, drops the pill in it, and pushes it towards Not-Jack. He is gone before the glass is empty.

---

In the morning, the man who is not Jack wakes up in his cramped hotel room. He tries to explain the headache, but distinctly remembers deciding not to drink last night.

Then he sits bolt upright, blindly panicking despite the tenfold increase in his headache. The last two years of his life, what happened? He doesn't know. Something with the Time Agency. They stole his memories?

He is suddenly determined to find out. And if nobody is willing to explain, he'll get answers another way. Possibly a slightly less legal way.

With a voice that sounds suspiciously like his own whispering _wrong dosage, sorry_ into his memories, he packs up and sets his wriststrap. For some reason, 1941 sounds like a good place to start…

---

Gwen Cooper wakes up for the fourth time that night. The difference is that this time it is not her husband's snoring, or her baby's crying, or even an alert from the Rift. This time it is a knock at the door.

She stumbles downstairs and pulls the door open.

A stranger named Jack stands on the doorstep.


	64. Challenge

Originally intended to be light-hearted; damn angst-ridden brain. Tapped out in five minutes, so no idea if there are any mistakes. I would, however, like to hear opinions on this one. Speaker and speak-ee? Not to mention when it takes place and who gets chosen.

Disclaimer: I have taken characters, plots and prompts from other people. There's nothing left for me to own.

* * *

64 - Challenge

Understanding is optional.

That's the first thing you have to remember. I know, I've been there. Standing at his side, watching him make the decisions. You never know where he's going.

Then every once in a while he does something so utterly inhuman that it makes you scream. Because how can he _let_ this happen? How could he do that to you, to everyone on Earth?

And you'll threaten to walk away. Don't give me that; you know you will. That's why he chose you, peering through the fog and the dark that first time. You'll make a stand against him. You'll make him remember.

But you can't walk away, can you? His grip on your soul is far more effective than threats and bribes because in the end it was all you. Standing with him is addictive; you need it more than any drug.

He'll sacrifice himself over and over; chipping away at your wooden heart with a chisel. Only a splinter comes off each time, but its his face emerging.

The question is, to whom are you referring? The Captain or the Doctor? You know of both, one better than the other. You know what he would do at any given moment, and you know what the other would say of it. Which side do you stand on?

For that matter, who are you? Guns or words, space or time, pick your poison. Name your price and choose your pawn.

I've already chosen. Too late for me. The world and his wife has seen my colours.

Name yourself. And choose one to stand beside.

I'm waiting.


	65. Possession

Prompt, as usual, from xAngelus's Darlax. Much appreciated.

And now: a challenge. I don't know where it came from, but I had a sudden ambition to change the ficcing world. So here it is:

Find a fic that has no reviews. Any fic at all; good, bad, nonsensical, a ship you hate, anything. Then review it as honestly as you can. That's it! Simple, isn't it? I predict about four of you will take me up on it, so I consider it a good day's work.

Now the A/N is longer than the chapter, enjoy: The Doctor, five words, and jelly babies.

* * *

65 - Possession

A man with a long scarf stepped out of a blue box.

Separately, neither the scarf nor the box would have been remarkable. But together they created an aura of mystery around the man.

So Liz skipped up to him and asked his name.

The man looked down at her quizzically as if he couldn't remember. Then he sat on the floor, cross-legged, and took a white paper bag out of his pocket. He pulled a small coloured sweet out of the bag, then said "I have many names."

Liz didn't think that was a proper answer, and said so. The man peered down his nose at the sweet in his hand, the popped it into his mouth. "It wasn't a proper question."

Liz frowned. She didn't like the strange man, but she did like sweets and she knew that if someone had something you wanted, you had to talk to them first. There was no reason, however, that what she said had to be civil. "I don't like you very much."

The man poked his tongue out at her. There was a green sweet sitting on it.

Liz decided enough was enough. She made a grab for the white paper bag, missing it by millimetres as the man stood up. Her fingers closed instead around the end of his scarf.

The man's eyebrows furrowed. "I have five words for you, Liz." And all thoughts of how he knew her name were lost as he leaned down to whisper-

"_Nobody touches my jelly babies._"


	66. Jonna

A rather odd attempt to make Jack/Donna plausible. Why Jonna, I hear you cry? Because it sounded better then Dack.

You'll probably figure out who's speaking, but just in case: Jack, Donna, Jack, Donna, Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack. Clear?

And don't forget yesterday's challenge: find a fic with no reviews and review it honestly. Simples!

Disclaimer: I forgot last chapter. RTD forgets nothing. Proof enough?

* * *

66 - Jonna

-and the world is spinning. You don't know how it happened, but there is a big cloud of Doctor and Rose and TARDIS rotating around your head, and you feel like you're falling off the ground. But then she's _there_, and her normality is so crushingly obvious that it drags the twisting world to a halt, anchoring you to the floor. And for the first time in a long while, you don't want to defy gravity.

-but you don't want to die. There is something so ultimately unfair about the fact that you came all this way only to give yourself to those that should be long dead, and this obvious display in front of you just proves it. And then you notice - no, I do not have to be alone. You tell him so, and though he doesn't believe you, you think that maybe the message got through.

-and you're walking out, knowing that you're the only one that they really can't touch. And then they do it - they take that glorious weight from around your neck and you're spinning up to dizzying heights because it's just not _fair_, you only just _found _her. The Doctor sounds distraught as well, far more than he did over Rose, and you wonder if it's the time delay, the ship, or maybe the fact that this time he never even considered the possibility of goodbye. But it doesn't matter anyway - you have no need to worry about losing her. She has already been lost for you.

-but none of this makes sense. The burning of a million fire-strands, space in your hands and time in your head, and still there are only two things you can see. One is the utter travesty of a twofold man told that his Midas touch is ash-bound. The other is a wide grin and an old military coat. And you're saying goodbye so soon? Hardly fair.

-and she's leaving. Well, you're leaving and that's almost the same thing. You will go and protect her world because it's _her _world, and you start to think that maybe this is not love at first sight, but it's as damn close as you've ever been. Her fire, her spice and her simple joy for others when they find what she herself deserves will keep you on the path of right intentions until the Doctor once again comes to call. It's the first time you've looked forward to his visit for another purpose than his own manic brand of trouble.

Later:

-middle of a crisis. The world is ending, the children are screaming, and the Doctor persists in his absence. You slip out for a few minutes, needing air. And then you see her, bold as brass on the streets of London, obviously disbelieving every word of the aliens and the children. You walk up to her, ask her if she can contact the Doctor (if she missed you), why she was on Earth (why she never looked you up), and her answer is-

She doesn't know your name

-your head rails at the injustice even as your mouth apologises for accosting the wrong person. Because she is; she is no longer the person you knew. The stitching on that age-old heart you sewed to your sleeve finally comes undone, and you understand that the Doctor had it wrong. When you save the world, you do it however you can. Philosophy be damned.

-you stare your family in the eyes as you tear them to pieces. It's fitting that they should hurt as much as you do, while the final nail in your eternal coffin is in the form of a simple question from a redhead who _may, possibly, one day_ have stolen your patchwork heart.

You finish the job as the antithesis to the man who brought her and you together, and then realise that your right intentions have just been littering the garden path to Hell.


	67. Seashells

Written in partnership with xAngelus's Darlax - she comes up with ideas, I write the first thing that comes into my head, she heaps praise on it. I should probably feel bad about that...

Disclaimer: I own a challenge - review a fic with no reviews. It's all good.

* * *

67 - Seashells

She pulls her hand from his almost as soon as the blue box fades from sight and turns him roughly to face her. She doesn't quite know what she's doing, but whichever god chucked her into this situation head-first should at least give her points for doing _something_.

He stares at her like she's mad, then nods slightly. She pulls away, walking towards her mother, and it doesn't escape anyone's notice that she fails to take the hand he offers. He pulls it back casually, and she pretends not to notice.

Later, she sits in the car. He is next to her, close enough to touch, but she stares out of the window and keeps a minute distance between the two of them. She knows why she kissed him - _that _voice saying _those _words - but she can't for the life of her figure out where they go from here. The real Doctor, the proper Doctor, was he giving her this to be happy? Was it a final brush-off, an I-never-loved-you-but-he-does? Or was it that the meta-crisis had extracted the bit of him that felt what she was sure he had felt? And more importantly, what the hell is she going to do now?

But then-

He takes her hand. He'd been talking with her mother, awkward at first, but gradually warming up until it was almost like before Torchwood London. And as he starts to talk about Donna, as the crack in his voice appeared, he reaches for her hand. Just like always.

And she realises - he's the same man. She stayed with him through regeneration - well, this _is_ a regeneration. Except this time he doesn't have time and space and running to back it up. This time, he's lost more than a heart: he's just a man in a suit in a strange world. And all he has is her.

He suddenly realises what he's done, and starts to pull his hand away. She lets him go, then kisses him on the cheek and threads her fingers through his. He smiles.

And just like that, brand new adventure. Picking up the pieces from that damned beach, finding the precious things and taking them home.

Normality is overrated, anyway.


	68. Cracking

Blimey, this was a difficult one to write. Random awkwardness. Thanks as usual to xAngelus's Darlax.

Disclaimer: Does RTD have as much trouble writing as I do? I don't think so.

* * *

68 - Cracking

Confusion abounded.

The Doctor - one of them, anyway, - and Rose were hugging enthusiastically. The other Doctor was staring at Donna in unabashed amazement, while her face turned the colour of her hair.

"So…"

No-one was quite sure who said that, but everyone was thinking it.

Suddenly Donna grabbed Rose's hand and started shaking it. "We never got properly introduced," she said, and with her usual bluntness added "just had an awkward conversation on a beach."

Rose smiled wanly and let go of the hand almost as soon as Donna loosened her grip. Then the DonnaDoctor, as everyone had taken to calling him, displayed his usual amount of tact and said "Shouldn't you be dead?"

At this, both Donna and the Doctor burst out laughing. They remained this way for at least four minutes, while the DonnaDoctor took Rose's hand and the two of them looked extremely uncomfortable.

Donna recovered first. "Yeah… that didn't happen."

"Is that all the explanation you're going to give?"

"Yes."

"Right."

Silence once again made her presence felt.

The awkward feeling in the room multiplied by four every minute.

Eventually, when the ill-at-ease quiet had been in progress for at least ten minutes, Rose made a decision. She pulled out her mobile, and mumbled something into the mouthpiece.

Less than fifteen seconds later, Jackie Tyler appeared in the doorway, followed by a small child. Said child barrelled into the DonnaDoctor's legs squealing "Daddy!" and he picked her up automatically, an embarrassed look gracing his features.

Rose turned proudly towards the Doctor. "This is Jane. Your daughter, of sorts."

"One question." Donna interrupted the reunion with a slightly amused tone.

"Yes?"

"Why is she ginger?"


	69. Childish

I seem to be having a run of happy!fics. Normal service will be resumed shortly.

Requested by Sunfall E - prequel to 'Cracking' (C68). I'll try to get the Donna fix-it done ASAP.

Disclaimer: I've given joint custody of the sprog to xAngelus's Darlax. However, a head, an arm and three-quarters of a leg are still mine.

* * *

69 - Childish

At first, their relationship was tentative. She wasn't sure he was the Doctor, _he_ wasn't sure he was the Doctor, and they were trying to explain these problems to people who had never heard of the Doctor.

But they came through it. And now here she is in a big white dress, waiting for her father to walk her down the aisle. It's traditional, and domestic, and all the things he hates, but she knows he's doing it for her so she gives him _that_ smile. His smile.

She will also be giving him a baby shortly, but right now he doesn't need to know that.

---

He faints.

She stares at him, sprawled on the floor with his mouth slightly agape. One hand rests on her stomach, only slightly swelled, and she nudges him with her foot.

He comes round almost immediately, but the most coherent thing he says is "Hurngh…"

"Oh, stop being melodramatic. It's a baby, not an invasion."

And despite what her mother says, she's absolutely positively sure she didn't hear him say that an invasion would be easier to deal with.

---

"We are _not _calling it _Xarquon_."

"Why not? Xarquon's a good, heroic name. And it's better than _Chad_."

"There is nothing wrong with Chad. And I still don't see why you're against Tiger Lily."

"Because of that stuck-up brat from Peter Pan. I like traditional names."

"Like Xarquon?"

"Xarquon's traditional on… Fine. Earth traditional."

"Let's ask Mum."

"NO."

---

The birth is the most difficult part. Quite apart from the pain, which is enough to be getting on with, she also has to worry about _him_. Pacing up and down the room, alternating between 'going to have a look' at how the birth was progressing, and yelling words of encouragement through noisy tears. It's no wonder she sends him out.

It's all over now, but she can still hear him threatening passers-by. Then his head pops round the door.

"Well? Is it a James or a Jane?"

She looks down at the tiny child in her arms, a small tuft of ginger wisps atop its head, and whispers "Jane."

He faints. Again.


	70. Instruction

A follow-up to 'Forest' (C17). Requested by elvespiratesandcowboysohmy, who has just joined our little reading/reviewing family. Welcome! Have a cookie.

Disclaimer: I own the diaries. Actually, Derek Metaltron owns some of them as he's writing entries in his 'Companions' fic. But I own most of them for now.

* * *

70 - Instruction

Right. First thing you gotta know is, the Doctor doesn't know about this room. And make sure he doesn't find out, OK? These are our secrets, the ones he travels with, and they stay between us.

Now we've got that out of the way…

This is my diary. Everyone who comes here has a diary, and I'm not gonna be the exception. Hope you aren't either, whoever you are. And yes, before you ask, I'm adding this note in afterwards. I expect you're asking why… well, the Doctor said something about- doesn't matter. But I've got a bad feeling, and I've not yet come across a note that explains the whole time-and-space thing. So I'm writing one for you, whoever you may be.

List Of Things You Absolutely Need To Know About The Doctor

1) Don't let him out of your sight. If you do, you'll come back to find him dangling over a pit of lava or something. I'm speaking from experience here.

2) Stock up on sweets. His Nibs does not take to sugar lows kindly.

3) If he gets hurt, and I mean seriously, fatally hurt, he might change his face. Don't worry about it, it's just something he does. It's still him inside, so just… go with it. Oh, and he might be a bit ill afterwards.

4) Two hearts. Allergic to aspirin. Respiratory bypass system. Don't ever ask him for a biology lesson, unless you're a doctor or something.

5) He is better than you and the rest of your species put together. He will tell you that often and loudly. Smile, nod, and offer him a banana. Never fails.

6) If he tells you to run, run. Exceptions to this are: when he is out of his head on some sedative/drug; when he is being particularly stupid; when he is holding an empty packet of your favourite biscuits and looking guilty.

I think that covers everything. One final thing: trust him. Because it's a big Universe out there, and there are a lot of things that go wrong. He'll fix them; he always does. Just trust him.

And… have a good time. You never know when this is gonna end, and between all the running, the aliens, the fighting, the laughing, the quiet moments… It's a fairly safe bet you'll be a little bit in love with him by the end. But don't let it get you down; that's not all there is to it. This whole thing will make you so much better than you were before, and that's the most important thing. Laugh, cry, love… just have a fantastic life.

Now for the real diary. Let the adventures begin…

Rose x

---

Martha put the diary down, swiped at a drop of water that was idly winding its way down her face, then sat down in the armchair that had conveniently appeared and turned the page.


	71. Accordance

I've been far too happy recently. Angst as promised.

This ficlet is part of an inter-JE series I have now dubbed 'Children Of Wine'. It takes place after 'Interim' (C61), but before 'Fifty' (C50) and 'Kiss' (C55).

Disclaimer: I don't _think_ anyone's had this idea before. So it might be mine. Then again, it might not.

* * *

71 - Accordance

The DonnaDoctor slipped into the room quietly and sat down facing his double. The faint sounds of humans discovering a large supply of alcohol drifted in from outside, but the two men remained in silence until-

"I know what you're planning."

The Doctor looked up, surprised. "Was it that obvious?"

"Not to anyone else. And I understand, you want her to be happy. I'll do my best."

There was a slight pause, and then the Doctor abruptly changed the subject.

"Can we fix her?"

They both knew they weren't talking about Rose any more.

The DonnaDoctor shook his head. "Why are you asking me? I'm just a human." The word was bitter in his mouth, and he could see the Doctor - the _real_ Doctor, the _original_ Doctor - wince.

"Because I'll try anything." the desperation on the Doctor's face suddenly became pronounced and his voice grew louder with every word. "Because you may have thought of something I haven't. Because this whole thing is a bloody mess and I _can't fix it_!" At this, both of them stood up.

"Have you even stopped to consider the fact that it's _your_ fault?" the DonnaDoctor hissed.

"Oh, don't try to pass this off onto me. You _are_ me, you made the same decisions I did."

"We're _killing_ her. And what have you done - tried to get her drunk so she holds out a bit longer? She's _dying_."

The Doctor was almost screaming now. "Don't you think I _know_ that? That this… what's happening… that it was caused by my _stupid_ idea to keep this body? That if I hadn't been so _bloody_ selfish, I would have regenerated and she would have been fine? But there's _nothing_ I can do!"

"Yes, there is! You can have the courage to go out there and tell her she's dying."

"And would that make her happy?"

"W- what?"

The Doctor sighed, and sat back down. The fatigue on his face was unexpectedly apparent. "If we went out there now, if we told her, she would spend her last few hours afraid of death. And I don't know about you, but I can't do that to her."

The DonnaDoctor, still standing, was suddenly hit by a wave of what-ifs. Donna crying, terrified. Her last hours spent blaming him, pleading with him… and most of all, the feeling that she would blame _herself_ for not keeping her promise of forever.

Then he saw the other side. Donna among friends, laughing about shared experiences and revelling in the knowledge her new mind afforded her. Same old Donna, but the way she was always meant to be. Believing that she could do anything.

No. He couldn't do that to her either. Brilliant, beautiful Donna, all the times he could remember her saving him- wait…

"Take her memories."

The Doctor looked at his twin with an expression that in any language would translate as _are you _on _something?_, and couldn't help but echo. "Take her _memories_?"

The DonnaDoctor continued, gaining confidence in his plan by the second. "Block the Time Lord consciousness up. So long as she doesn't connect with it, so long as it stays locked away in a corner of her brain, she'll be fine. It can't hurt her if she's not using it."

"But sh- she… she wouldn't be Donna…"

"Yes she _would_." On that point, the DonnaDoctor was clear. Because as long as there was a Donna with the potential to be Donna, then all would be right with the world. "She'd be the same person she was before. Except she'd have had all these experiences, even if she didn't remember them."

The Doctor looked unconvinced. "I suppose they may have left a mark subconsciously… But you do realise what this means."

"Of course." The defiant tone was ruined somewhat by the cracking in his voice. "We can't ever talk to her again. Can't even see her. But at least she'll be alive."

The Doctor stood and offered his hand; the DonnaDoctor stared at it uncomprehendingly, until his double said-

"For Donna."

He placed his hand in the Doctor's. A Gallifreyan oath, of sorts.

Identical tears rolled down identical cheeks.

"For Donna."


	72. Rush

Prompt by xAngelus's Darlax - the Doctor on a sugar high. I'm all caught up on prompts now, thanks sweetie.

Also thanks to James Birdsong, who recently went on one of his reviewing blitzes. Thank you to everyone else as well, obviously, but I usually do those in person.

Disclaimer: I will quite happily take custody of the numerous chocolate bars mentioned below.

* * *

72 - Rush

"ROSE!"

The Doctor ran into her room and half-jumped onto her bed. Half-jumped, because his foot got caught up in a conveniently-placed T-shirt on the floor. As a consequence, his face ended up somewhere around her feet.

Rose groaned in a half-asleep, when-I-get-some-caffeine-I'll-kill-whoever-woke-me-up kind of way, and kicked feebly. Undeterred, the Doctor stood up and pulled the covers back. Or at least, he tried. A tug-of-war ensued, in which Rose attempted the Tyler Death Grip her mother had perfected and the Doctor attempted to use sonic screwdriver setting #504937 - listed as Remove Companion's Duvet Painlessly in the manual.

The Doctor won, and skipped - actually _skipped_ - out of the room, the duvet draped around him like Superman's cape. Rose groaned again - this time, more of a why-do-I-travel-with-this-madman groan - and started to hunt for her dressing gown. It soon became apparent that this would be easier with her eyes open, but she wasn't quite ready for that so she gave it up as a bad job and stumbled out of the room, trusting the TARDIS to remove any unhelpful obstacles such as walls.

She made it down to the kitchen without mishap, and was greeted with the sight of an altogether-too-cheerful Time Lord, munching happily on a bar of chocolate. Raising one eyebrow at his choice of breakfast, she grabbed for a slice of toast and then failed to sit down. Not that she didn't try, but the chair in question - along with every other flat surface in the room and quite a few non-flat ones - was covered in a mountain of chocolate wrappers.

Rose's brain took a few seconds to catch up with her eyes, which were narrowed suspiciously at the Doctor. He was bouncing slightly on the spot, waving his head from side to side as he ate.

"Did you eat all of this?"

He at least had the grace to look guilty. "Er… no… the TARDIS did it."

"Hmm." Breakfast continued in silence. Rose soon finished the stack of toast, then went to the wardrobe room to get ready. She returned less than five minutes later, chocolate wrappers clinging to her dressing gown, and said in a deceptively calm voice "If I find a single other chocolate wrapper, you are taking me home and I am going to tell my mother."

The Doctor paled significantly and quickly assured her that there were not, nor had there ever been, any other chocolate wrappers; a speech made slightly less believable by the fact that he was all but hopping on the spot while he said it. And it didn't help that as Rose left the room, she heard an unmistakeable TARDIS-aimed stage whisper:

"_Don't let her into the console room._"

The slap that followed made him very glad he hadn't mentioned the wrapper which was stuck to her hair.


	73. Beginnings

Welcome to Revenge of the Derek Metaltron Prompt. Tonight, we have the First Doctor plus a little bit of abstract for your pleasure.

Disclaimer: I wasn't born in '63. How could I own it?

* * *

73 - Beginnings

I am the First. The Original, you might say.

I am supposed to be the trustworthy one, gone long before the secrets and lies could set in. Grand and sophisticated with a touch of the grouch. You are expected to believe me.

The ones that come after, the ones I see through another's eyes, they are shrouded in falsehoods and stories. But not me. I watch and wait; I am their judge and their conscience.

The truth, however, is that I am where the secrets began. I was once a child with all the innocence that childhood entails. Then the halls of the Academy crawled with whispers; they taught me how to deceive. And now I do nothing else.

I hope you understand. That I could not tell you of my actions before is merely proof of my nature. I am the Untruth. The original sin.

And I tell you this now, after all this time? I do not reveal these things for you to blame me, and I do not ask for your forgiveness. I merely request that you try to understand. Gallifrey was your home for too short a time and it is only fitting that you learn what you nearly became.

Try not to dwell on the possibilities. I would not have you any other way; you do not deserve what that place did to all who entered. You, my dear, tell the truth and are better for it. I am proud of you, and that _is_ the truth.

I can only hope you comprehend what you have cost me. You strip away the corruption from all you touch and with myself it was no different. But I did it to give you the chances I never had. A new life, with all its faults and failings, is nothing if part of the old intrudes.

I am a better man because you made me so. I am only sorry that in the end, it was not enough.

I promised to come back for you, Susan.

I lied.


	74. Habits

I literally have no clue where this one came from. But for those of you who are not SJA-literate: Gita is the mother of one of Sarah's Little Helpers. That's all you need to know.

Disclaimer: No-one _really_ seems to be taking care of SJA. May I?

* * *

74 - Habits

Gita Chandra annoyed Sarah Jane.

It wasn't anything particular about the woman herself. Yes, she was a little pushy, and yes, she had the odd patronising moment. But for the most part, she was friendly, unassuming, and a good mother to Rani.

No; what irked Sarah Jane was what Gita called her.

Sarah.

She had nothing against Sarah. She actually loved her name, and the short form had once made her feel among friends. However, she had stopped allowing anyone to call her Sarah years ago, for one very simple reason.

The Doctor called her Sarah.

And ever since then, Sarah had become who she was _with _the Doctor. Sarah was clever, Sarah travelled through time and space with the Time Lord she refused to admit she loved. Sarah was everything she had ever wanted to be.

But then the Doctor left. And she waited, she waited so long and kept Sarah locked up in a little corner of her heart. Needing to be brash and bold, she became Sarah Jane once more.

Sarah waited for the Doctor to come back for her. He never did.

And when she met him again, she had been Sarah Jane for a long time. He no longer called her Sarah and she was paranoid he could see the difference, but she had forgotten how to be any other way.

So Sarah Jane she stayed. And she did not like to be reminded of the lost times.

Yet the sound of the TARDIS, that familiar figure, a flash of blue, they caused a spark to flare in her and just for a second she was taken back to a time when a scarf-wearing man took her hand and two syllables instead of three were all she needed.

Yes, Gita Chandra annoyed Sarah Jane.

But to Sarah, Gita gave hope.


	75. Books

Requested by xAngelus's Darlax - the Doctor reads 'Harry Potter'. For those who don't know, Lucie Miller travels with the Eighth Doctor in the Big Finish Audio Dramas. All you need to know is this: she is made of awesome.

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Harry and the gang. I could do with the money.

* * *

75 - Books

"_Wait 'til you read the seventh one. I cried..."_

"H… Heh…"

It had been a full twenty-five minutes since Lucie had first wandered into the TARDIS library to find the Doctor in floods of tears. It had been twenty-four minutes since he had started trying to tell her why he was crying.

It had been about twenty-three minutes since she had first considered how best the book in his hand could be used to shut him up.

"Heh… H…"

Sick of his explanation consisting of one syllable, Lucie executed a deft manoeuvre in which she swapped the book for the near-empty tissue box she had been waving under the Doctor's nose every thirty seconds or so. She glanced at the title and did a double-take.

"Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows? The _seventh_ book?" She flipped to the first page, the still-wailing Doctor promptly forgotten about. He half-heartedly tugged on her sleeve, but realised she was not to be deterred and settled down with the tissue box to cry quietly until she surfaced.

It was a short while later that Lucie reached what she assumed was the reason for the Doctor's sobbing, purely because his monosyllabic explanation fitted with the text. And the fact that his bookmark (the one that said 'Trust me, I control Time and Space') was in the page.

Turning to look at him incredulously, she dropped the book onto his lap and remained silent. The Doctor, who had just managed to pull himself together, managed to choke out two words before collapsing into fresh bouts of snivelling.

"_Hedwig dies!_"


	76. Talmau

A response to 'Torchwood: Children Of Earth', prompted by martha smith. If you want more CoE angst (although I can't see why you would), then my Profile Page also contains 'and there was evening' and 'we came so far to lose our looking glasses'. Yes, the lack of capitals is deliberate. Loosely connected on the DW side of things is 'As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)'. And no, that is not shameless advertising. Much.

Disclaimer: I'll have the truck!

* * *

76 - Talmau

A forklift truck.

How bloody ridiculous is that? Saving your boss, your friend, your… something, in the most un-Torchwood vehicle imaginable. Torchwood is sleek, Torchwood is powerful. That one object epitomises everything Torchwood is not.

However, you put aside your pride. You use what you can find. It's a good thing no-one asks where the thing came from - you can hardly remember yourself. Still, it does the job. Jack is soon free.

You consider asking him how it felt, but decide you'd really rather not know.

You've had enough experience of death on your own.

---

The uncomfortable conversations always last the longest. You've been over this with Jack many times, but you want to hear it again. Forever is a meaningless concept to him - not so to you.

You think over the early days, when all your pairing meant was a way to keep Lisa a secret. You're not quite sure how you ended up here, with your heart shredded to ribbons and tied around his with a flourish, but you're also not entirely sure you want anything different.

The plot thickens. You are pulled out of your world of two, into a world of two billion nightmares.

The 456 are coming. Torchwood, with two down and three up, are left alone.

Sometimes, you think, this whole life is just a numbers game.

---

Dying is incredibly easy.

It's not like you thought it would be. You considered a struggle, maybe a large amount of pain thrown in, but what you get is a series of fragmented images. Your mouth is struggling to remain coherent without your brain to back it up, but through whispered declarations of love it somehow registers that he never said it back.

And your thoughts are slipping, sliding away like too much paint on a canvas, and you're beginning to lose track of the light. Strangely, you think of Gwen and how she's now the only one left to give Jack forever. And, you believe, there couldn't be a better person for the job.

It's all going now and you can see it fading. Playing on the swings. Your dad in Debenhams. Torchwood One. Lisa. Tosh and Owen. The team, just the three of you, stronger than ever and a perfect fit. A numbers game - divided you stand but together you fly.

You can see Jack, far away through the wrong end of your cosmic telescope. Sleep now. Relax.

Your last thought, and the irony does not escape you-

_damn, I never got to see how it all turns out._


	77. Dessert

Don't ask where this came from, because I don't know. My brain runs away sometimes...

Disclaimer: The chocolate planet is mine. I may be willing to sell off pieces, but the deeds stay firmly in my hands.

* * *

77 - Des(s)ert

"You said you were taking me somewhere nice."

"And I did."

"I think you'll find you said 'the chocolate planet'. Best desserts ever invented?"

"_Yes_…"

"Then why is there sand as far as the eye can see?"

"Er-"

"And a little puddle posing as an oasis?"

"Well-"

"And a _cactus_?"

"It's not my fault! The Galactic Co-ordinates are 2-0-0-s-slash-beta-9..."

"And?"

"I missed the s."

"I'll give you _s_, you _stupid_, _smug_, _insipid Spaceman_…"

"Insipid doesn't start with an 's', Donna- OW!"

***Donna's reply has been removed for the preservation of public decency***


	78. Tippex

If anyone would like to see martha smith's prompt before my brain took hold of it, look at the reviews for C76. To martha smith herself: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But the crack!bunnies wouldn't let go.

In other news, and to anyone else who's interested, I'm going on holiday next week, so no updates. But rest assured, I will be back to further terrorise you after that.

Disclaimer: Day Five is no more, so no-one can own it.

* * *

78 - Tippex

DAY FIVE:

Random Policeman: (_to Rhys)_ Sir, I know you're trying to save the world with a laptop, but could you please move so we can steal the kids?

Rhys: No way! _(gets shot) _GAK!

Gwen: RHYS! NO! I know I treated you like an idiot for two series, but you can't be dead! Who will look after the baby while I'm at work? _(to someone off-screen)_ Was that alright? Are we done with the angsting? Good. Then let's fast-forward - the readers have seen this bit.

_Fast-forward through Gwen being heroic saving children, children being stolen from their parents, Jack killing his grandson, Alice ignoring him._

_CUT TO A HILL WITH A 'SIX-MONTHS-LATER' TAG:_

Gwen: Jack! You can't leave! What about me and the baby? I can't rebuild Torchwood without you.

Jack: _(in monotone) _Everything I touch dies. You'll be better off without me. And they might not be giving me a pay rise for next series, so I'm out of here. See ya! _(he vanishes. Gwen sobs, then leaves.)_

_CUT TO A KNOCK ON GWEN'S DOOR WITH A 'SIX-MONTHS-LATER' TAG:_

Gwen: Jack! You got that pay rise after all!

Jack: _(glumly) _No. The BBC's lawyers found a loophole in my contract. I mean, the Doctor sent me back. Honest.

Gwen: _(using fake!smile of fakeness)_ Oh, well! Come and meet my new baby. His name is Rhys-Jack-Ianto-Jack-Owen-Jack… _(she recites the names of every male who died in 'Torchwood' in backwards-chronological order) _… Cooper.

Jack: _(ignoring baby) _So… I've been thinking.

Gwen: _(fluttering eyelashes) _About what?

Jack: About us.

Gwen: Us?

Jack: Yeah. Because you're the only member of Torchwood left alive, and because you recently became available, and because I've kinda had a thing for you since 'Everything Changes' and I want to annoy the Janto shippers, I think we should hook up.

Gwen: The official reason being?

Jack: Ianto, my one true love even though I was born in a century where monogamy was practically a crime, would have wanted me to find happiness and you're the only attractive female in my little black book who's still talking to me.

_(pause)_

Gwen: That's good enough for me!

_(they kiss passionately. With tongue. To a soundtrack of a million Janto fans sharpening their knives)_

_END._


	79. Goodbyes

I'm back, people. Again.

If you've been following this through every chapter - and congratulations, by the way - you'll know that before my little sojourn I was being far too happy. And we can't have that, can we? So to break the monotony here's some angst from the 'Children Of Wine' series. It's after all other parts, which are: Interim (C61), Accordance (C71), Fifty (C50), Kiss (C55). More will probably be added - out of order - as and when. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: Thanks to my recent trip, I now own a penny with a TARDIS imprint.

* * *

79 - Goodbyes

"I loved you, you know.

"Just a little bit. Course, I couldn't say that to your face - you'd probably slap me. And I'd probably deserve it.

"I suppose I should be saying goodbye. Well, you know me. You know me better than anyone else. And you know I don't say goodbye easily, so I hope you won't expect it from me.

"Now you've made me cry. Congratulations - not many people can say they've seen that. I suppose there was Rose, and Martha, and… OK, quite a few people have seen me cry. But the point still stands.

"I know what you should be saying now. You should be telling me to shut up and stop rambling. You should be telling me to let you get a decent bit of kip finally, and threatening me, and calling me Spaceman.

"This is my fault, you know. Mine and his. He came up with the idea, I carried it out. And I won't apologise for that. Sorry means I wouldn't do it again, and you deserve better than a lie.

"So here we are. I'd like to tell you this is one of those metaphorical crossroads they talk about in those novels of yours - you know the ones. Trashy, pointless, and completely addictive. But I think I have to admit this is the end of the line.

"I won't give up, though. I've done that before, far too often, and it never ends well. So I'll keep hoping for you and one day, if I'm lucky, I'll see you again."

The Time Rotor, which had thus far been silent, quietly announced that they had reached their destination. The Doctor looked helplessly at the TARDIS doors, then clutched the woman in his arms that little bit tighter.

"You were fantastic. And I hope you remember that at least, because you were. Better than me in the end.

"And however it ends, you and me, I don't regret one single bit. Not even that first day, where all I wanted to do was get rid of you. Biggest mistake of my lives.

"Because, Donna Noble… I wouldn't have missed you for the world."


	80. Reality

Right, then. xAngelus's Darlax gave me this prompt:

Another crack!fic, centred around an  
off-scene incident, cos while filming the finale for Series 3 there is an  
infamous line off-screen of John Barrowman saying to David Tennant as follows  
J: *whispers* David, I... have... cake.  
D: WOO HOO!  
My prompt is John Barrowman, David Tennant and that cake.

I did my best, hun. RPF is not my forte.

80 - Reality

(or, Let Them Eat Cake)

Filming had stopped for the day, and the cast and crew of Doctor Who were slowly meandering off set. Bits of TARDIS, fake guns and screwdrivers both laser and sonic littered the floor of the Valiant set, but after a long day's work no-one could be bothered to pick them up.

Two people who were not feeling tired were John Barrowman and David Tennant. The former had recently caused a rather large upset using three words, and filming had to be halted for half an hour while everyone in the immediate area calmed down.

The subject of these three words was waiting in the canteen, and the two men (who could hardly be called men at the present time, given that they were both acting like children) were racing towards it. John, having slightly longer legs, reached it first, but David was more nimble and snatched it out of his grasp.

A chase ensued through the hallways of the Upper Boat studios. The object in question changed hands several times, and by the time the pair arrived outside, they were both covered in its contents.

Then David stopped, still holding his prize, and John ran into the back of him.

"Hey, what-?"

John proceeded to notice the reason David had stopped and suddenly became very glad he was standing further away.

Freema Agyeman was glaring at them.

"You had cake without me?"

"Freema, it was only-"

"You had cake with_out_ me?"

Without further ado, she plucked the mangled cake from David's hands and stalked off.

David and John just looked at each other, marvelling at how well that went compared to how physically painful it could have become. Suddenly, each man felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned round to see John Simm holding a large tub and offering them two spoons.

"Ice cream?"

Disclaimer: They're real people. Owning them would involve slavery.

* * *


	81. Punctuation

By some shocking oversight on my part, GeekyKeen has not yet had a chapter dedication. So this one's for you.

Disclaimer: I own the 'see if you can guess who each one is' concept. In fact, I use it far too often.

* * *

81 - Punctuation

You love to speak. Words twist around your tongue like vines, constantly changing. You never stop searching for new expressions, never once pause in your quest to say exactly what you mean in a thousand different ways.

But a wise man knows his grammar, and you know that your speeches are empty without the punctuation in place. Your faithful travelling companions, those that stay with you and slow you down enough to breathe - your only true friends.

First comes the capitals. Those upright letters, so strong in their convictions, yet simply waiting for the rest to tumble out. They rise above the others only with a hand to hold, an outstretched arm to help them climb.

Then are the commas. This is your domain, a million pauses a hair's breadth apart to allow your sentences to fly. Keep them up in the air; never waver; only lift.

Brackets enclose you, and you understand the notion of being trapped. The parentheses keep their own secrets badly, displaying all behind two simple lines, and seek for your hidden meanings to join their exposition. You quickly move on, eliminate the sub-clause and subtext with a brush off. Never fails.

Now you come to the ends, the ones that trip you up. An inquisitive mind, curling her pen to fit your shorthand, and you answer every question a heartbeat too late to conceal your thoughts. You leave the question marks far behind only for them to recur later. Bluster and bravado are no satisfactory solution.

You leave the exclamations to others. You may shout, may state your case firmly, but their brash upright certainty feels wrong to you. It never wavers, never falls, simply marks its path with a surety you wish you could replicate.

And finally - you rest. The tiny dot at the end of the story. No matter how many letters, how many times you trip your tongue around the truth, it always comes back to this one fact.

You need something to stop you.


	82. Transition

For shamrock's plaid - Jenny, as promised. This... well, it's a weird one. Don't ask where it came from - I don't know.

Disclaimer: Grey Room = mine. World in italics = mine. Who = not mine.

* * *

82 - Transition

Jenny lifted her head groggily. For a moment, she thought she had gone blind, but upon waving her hand in front of her face she discovered that she was in a grey room. Well, she considered it a room, but since every surface was covered in the precise same shade of pepper-grey, it was difficult to judge.

There was something wrong with the Grey Room. Jenny could feel something prickling at the back of her mind; the sort of feeling one gets just before turning to find someone immediately behind them. But of course, reasoned Jenny, in these sorts of situations there was never anyone there.

_-there was never a way out-_

Wait and observe, her Time Lord instincts said. Turn around and look, her soldier half rejoined.

She turned around. Behind her was a blonde girl, a little older than herself, and her father.

_-she wished she could see her father-_

She stumbled towards him, arms outstretched, but her fingers passed… through him?

_-she beat her fists against the door-_

His face was more lined than she remembered, and his expression was a mix of pity and affection.

"Jenny… It's been too long."

"Dad?" Jenny was thoroughly confused now. "Dad, what's going on? What is this place?"

"Don't you know?" The blonde girl spoke for the first time, a touch of an accent like Donna's to her voice. "Doctor, how can she not know?"

Her father ignored the girl's question, and gazed steadily at Jenny. "You've been here once before. Do you remember?"

"I don't-

_-a shot, a hole in her heart, so much pain-_

"I haven't-"

_-the grey room, the pain gone, but she was so scared still-_

Jenny sunk to her knees with an agonised gasp as the memories broke through, that little tickle at the back of her mind, becoming a sword piercing her soul-

­_-get out, she shouted to the refugees. Get out, the whole building's gonna collapse. And they all rushed out, leaving her the only one to hold the door. The army was battering the other side now; the structure of the building so weakened that the single metal sheet she was pressed against was the only thing holding it up. And despite the fact that they were trying to kill her, she was trying to save them because her dad would, because he said it was only fair and she clung to those instructions every time she tried to save the world-_

_-but the roof was coming in, and the army were bringing reinforcements, and she was so so tired. If only she could let go, rest her hands just for a second-_

_-and the door sprang open, the walls collapsing and the debris almost burying her, and she was almost glad of the pain in her head because at least now her arms could rest, her eyes could rest if she just closed them-_

_-she was in the Grey Room-_

She was in the Grey Room. And she was dead.

"But- it's not fair! I've been here before, I got out before - why does it end now?"

Her dad hovered his hand over her shoulder - of course, he couldn't touch her. "Oh Jenny. It doesn't end now."

"But- but I'm dead! And you're here too, and- wait, what?" Jenny's disbelief turned to fury as she realised- "_You're dead too?_ You _idiot_! How could you be so careless?"

The other girl was laughing now. "Oh, I like her. Sure she hasn't got a bit of Donna in her?"

Her dad gave the girl a withering look, then turned back to Jenny. "No, I'm not- I'm not your dad."

"I didn't call you dad, I called you dead- _what do you mean_? Stop talking in riddles!"

"I look like him, I sound like him, but I'm human."

"You're… how can you be human?"

But Jenny felt a tugging sensation, as if someone was pulling her backwards, and the grey started reluctantly fading into white…

"We haven't got much time." Her dad looked frantic now. "Me and Rose, we're here 'cause we did something a bit… _risky_. But you're going back now, because Time Lords have this little trick called regeneration-"

"_Hurry up,_" Rose interrupted. Because the white was getting stronger now and their voices were getting fainter, like turning the volume down on the radio…

And through the blurring light, she could just about hear the words-

"_Look for him on Earth. Love you, Jen."_

And then-

Jenny woke up.


	83. Sky

This ficlet was brought to you by GeekyKeen Prompts (TM).

Anyone wondering about the title should turn their attention to The Beatles. You'll get there eventually.

Disclaimer: I'll take the necklace. I could use the cash.

* * *

83 - Sky

Twelve-year-old Lucy Cole eyed herself cagily in the mirror. She was wearing her best dress and her neck was slightly bent with the weight of a diamond necklace her mother had picked out. Of course, Daddy paid. Daddy paid for everything.

"Lucy! Come downstairs, darling, the party guests are here."

Her mother's sugar-sweet voice floated up the stairs, received pronunciation as fake as the nails she had spent hours on. Although she would never speak of it, Lucy knew her mother had been a working-class Yorkshire woman until her father had come into the picture. She wasn't sure how the marriage had come about, but from the whispers of servants she understood it hadn't been pleasant.

However, the one time she had tried to talk to her mother about Yorkshire, she had been slapped round the face without preamble. She never tried again.

She still received the occasional slap, though. Anything to do with her mother's past was strictly off-limits. She was even warned away from the Northern children who attended her school, scarce though they were.

Lucy, however, was a determined child, and a recent school project on upper-class families provided her with the perfect opportunity. She would frequently visit the library at lunchtimes, making excuses to call those who she thought could help her on the battered library phone. These conversations were invariably conducted in whispers; Lucy addressing the receiver with the confidence of the aristocracy and the curious innocence of a child. Combined, the results came flowing in.

Her mother had been a member of a large drugs gang. They could get you anything you wanted, given the right price. Her father, still only an heir at this point, had been visiting the area with his friends - an outreach programme designed to 'reconnect the unfortunate with the wealthy' - and had been asking around for some 'entertainment' when the police had decided to raid the whole gang. Lucy's mother and father had escaped, and the former had offered her silence in the media… on the condition that he made it worth her while. The marriage had taken place shortly afterwards.

Lucy was not surprised in the least by this. She had heard several times that it was a marriage of convenience, and this only confirmed her suspicions - that neither father nor mother cared for her except as a necessary by-product of their charade.

She had a charade of her own. Not especially bright, but essentially harmless.

Of course, later in her life this would be rendered inconsequential. A man would show her the end of the Universe and with it her true place in life - at his side as Mistress of all. And he would be _so_ good to her father and mother - show them exactly what happened to anyone who dared to harm _his_ Lucy…

But for now, Lucy knew nothing. She would go down to the party, pretend to be a vapid little brat who was spoilt beyond measure. She would ignore the condescending pats to the head, the simpering smiles which said she was such a good girl, the whispers behind her back that talked of a pretty little thing who would only ever amount to a trophy wife…

She would endure it all and smile. Because one day, she would be free of those who turned every focus onto themselves, who used her 'special days' for business gatherings while she sat in a corner without companion or ally.

There would be no friends waiting for her downstairs. Only a pile of expensive gifts chosen by the PA and a group of people who knew her by name only. However, one day there would be revenge.

Lucy Cole skipped down to her birthday party and left a splintered shard of her mind still staring into the mirror.


	84. Warrior

Sorry for the delay - as I'm sure you noticed, FFnet suffered critical existence failure for a couple of days.

So without further ado, let's get on with the fic - a Derek Metaltron prompt involving TimeWar!Susan.

Disclaimer: If I owned it, this would not only have been posted days ago but also shown on TV. Alas, neither was possible.

* * *

84 - Warrior

The cries filled the air. Susan inched her way out from behind a pillar, carrying no weapons but a circuit board trailing a thin piece of wire.

"Grandfather!"

The unfamiliar face appeared from behind an ornate table, twisted with surprise. "Susan? What are you doing here? You're supposed to be-"

The rest of his speech was lost in another wave of Dalek fire. Throwing caution out of the shattered window, Susan took a deep breath and launched herself over to where her grandfather was crouched. A stray burst of laser fire missed her left leg by mere millimetres.

"Romana sent me with this," and she handed the circuit board to him. "It's a transmission blocker-"

"That'll take down their defences! That's brilliant! Now we can… hang on, why did Romana send you?"

"She needed a runner. The others…"

She trailed off, knowing she needn't say more. His face hardened for a second, then turned to the circuit board and started connecting it to a previously unseen computer terminal hidden under the table.

"If I can just connect this… I thought I'd have to do a total reset, but-"

"You mean, blow up Gallifrey." Susan spat the words out. "You've been spending too much time with the Council - started talking in euphemisms. At least say what you mean, Grandfather."

He half-turned towards her, his eyes still fixed on the terminal. They spent a tense few minutes in silence until he let out a gleeful "Ha! That should sort them out!"

And as a Dalek finally moved to fire on them, the sound came filtering through the broken walls - the sound of cheering. A loud voice, barely recognisable as Romana's, was being broadcast from every available speaker.

"Daleks, your defences are now useless. We have taken control of your command ships. The War is over. Please submit quietly…"

Her voice faded into the background as Susan hugged her grandfather fiercely. He whispered in her ear "Thank goodness you were here. If you hadn't been, I dread to think-"

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

"-what would have happened to us-"

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

His voice was fading, the images blurring like paint on a canvas as the colours ran together…

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

Susan lifted her head from her pillow, switched off the alarm clock, and shook the last of the what-if dreams from her mind.


	85. Duplex

For the people who left reviews to C84 - I'm sorry for not replying. I received your reviews in my inbox, but for some reason they haven't showed up on the story. Oh, well. Thank you anyway.

And now - another prompt from the Cult of Derek.

Disclaimer: You do know that legally these things make absolutely no difference, don't you?

* * *

85 - Duplex

"Sarah Jane"

Mr. Smith's calm tones snapped Sarah Jane out of the trance she was in. Her fingers paused in their dance across the computer keyboard and she looked up exasperatedly from her half-finished article. "What is it, Mr. Smith?"

"I have detected some unusual temporal activity around Rani."

Sarah Jane frowned and reluctantly closed down the computer. Some long-practiced journalistic instinct told her this was going to be a long one. "What sort of temporal activity?"

"I would need to conduct a full scan to be certain of the exact nature."

Sarah Jane sighed and reached for her mobile.

---

"What do you mean, unusual?"

Rani Chandra was not best pleased. Dragged away from a History project that was due tomorrow, she was determined to get this sorted as soon as possible. Unfortunately, that meant trying to get a straight answer out of Mr. Smith.

"Do I have your permission to conduct a full scan?"

"Yes, fine, just make it quick please."

The scan took about ten minutes, during which there was much tutting and rolling of eyes. When Mr. Smith finally finished, he began to explain the results in his usual over-technical style. Fortunately, Sarah Jane was on hand to translate.

"My subcutaneous scanners have indicated-"

"He looked inside you and found-"

"-abnormal activity of the neuronic pulses in your encephalon-"

"-strange things happening in your brain-"

"-as a result of a temporal transducer in the guise of a miniature hand-held timepiece-"

"-because of a time-altering pocket watch-"

"-located in your left pocket."

"-located in your- oh, right."

Rani immediately reached into said pocket and pulled out a watch with a number of strange markings. Sarah Jane placed it on another of Mr. Smith's scanners. "Can you identify the source of these lines? The curves and shapes, are they some sort of code?"

"Their features correspond to those of a language, Sarah Jane. However, I am unable to recover a translation."

"Right," Sarah Jane looked slightly perturbed and addressed Rani. "Where did you get this from?"

Rani shifted uncomfortably. "I don't… I found it at the back of the wardrobe while we were moving. Put in in a box, and never thought about it 'til now. I got it back out again this morning."

"Hmm… have you tried opening it?"

"It's broken."

"_Have _you ever opened it?"

"I- no…"

"Then how do you know it's broken?"

Rani made no answer, except to slowly reach for the watch and turn it over in her hand. She put her thumb over the catch and pressed.

A golden light swirled out of the watch, surrounding Rani completely. It was so bright, Sarah Jane had to shield her eyes, but it could not have been more than thirty seconds before the light had disappeared entirely. Rani was left unchanged, but standing still with her eyes closed.

"Rani? Are you alright?"

With a serene expression, Rani opened her eyes. There was a queer look in them, older than her usual teenage expression. Then, in a voice more cold and emotionless than her own, she said "I am not Rani."

Sarah Jane almost did not dare to ask the question, but her mouth was firmly on autopilot. "Then who are you?"

"I… am _the _Rani."


	86. Cold

I love writing Lucy. I don't know why I've only just discovered this, when I've written her before, but there it is. So here is her revenge, a sequel to Sky (C83) brought to you courtesy of xAngelus's Darlax.

Disclaimer: This disclaimer means nothing in a court of law. FFnet has disclaimers a-plenty. However, my complete failure to own anything should be noted by Aunty Beeb and her fleet of lawyers.

* * *

86 - Cold

_"He was so good to my father."_

"Lucy, my darling? It's time."

Lucy Saxon - now shedding the last vestiges of 'Cole' from her mind - took her husband's hand as they walked into the elaborately-decorated ballroom. She shifted uncomfortably whilst trying to haul along the four-foot train of her dress, and Harry laughed, picked it up, and tossed it over his arm

God, she loved him.

A smattering of polite applause broke out as they entered the room. Her parents had not been happy, but at Harry's insistence Lucy had been allowed to draw up the guest list. The room was full of people she hated, people who had never paid her the slightest bit of friendly attention.

Of course, _they_ thought they were there for being family friends. Lucy had no inclination to disillusion them.

They took their place at the head of the table, and the rest of the wedding reception passed by in a blur. Eating the gourmet food without tasting it, being congratulated by someone who only two years previously had said she 'wasn't clever enough to get a man, let alone keep him'. The excitement settled in the pit of her stomach like an ache, and the only thing that kept her grounded was the feeling of Harry's hand in hers. Finally, _finally_…

Then came the speeches. Her father was flawless, typical sentiments such as 'my little girl' slipping out as easily as if he had been speaking them for years. He played his part perfectly, right down to the tear in his eye and the crack in his voice, and if Lucy hadn't known better she would almost have thought he'd written the speech himself.

Next, it was the best man's turn. "I just wanted to say how lucky Harry is to finally have found someone who appreciates him. Lucy is a perfect match, and I know they'll be very happy together." The man's voice shook slightly, and the speech was brief - it was obvious he knew what was coming. As Harry's PA for the political campaign, he was privy to all sorts of secrets. Of course, what he didn't know was that he too would be part of the upcoming 'celebration'.

Finally, Harry stood up, and Lucy's throat tightened as the thrill swept over her. That someone could love her enough to do this…

"There are just a few people I would like to thank. The first, of course, is my beautiful wife. Lucy, my darling, thank you for standing at my side and loving me enough to marry me-"

Another round of reluctant applause drowned the rest of his sentence, but Lucy didn't mind because he was looking at her with _that_ smile.

"Another thank you goes to my best man, PA and friend, Johnny Clack. He gets me everywhere on time and cleans up after me. I hope that some day he gets everything he deserves."

Lucy giggled slightly at this. She knew that Clack had been leaking the occasional story to the press, complete with scathing comments about the fiancée of his boss. And nobody got away with insulting her as far as Harry was concerned.

"And finally, to all you people here. I'm glad that you could come to see this. Did you know, my wife handpicked you all to join us today? For your generosity, your encouragement, your affection towards her."

A few people started to look uncomfortable; the rest were basking in this unexpected admiration.

"Yes, you have had such an impact on the life of my wife. Not that I'm complaining - you made her the wonderful person she is today. But to make you understand _exactly_ how grateful she is to all of you, I'd like to introduce some friends of mine."

And as the Toclafane arrived, the screaming began.

Later, Harry and Lucy would be shocked. They would say they had no idea how it had happened, but agree that Harry's swift actions in removing the two of them from the room had saved their lives. Of course, they were deeply unhappy that no one else could have been saved.

But for now, Lucy was content to kiss her husband as one by one, the screams were replaced with silence.


	87. Gum

For GeekyKeen. This prompt inspired me to get ahead of myself once again, so I now have two or three days of fics done! This situation is much better than it has been since my trip to France, in which each chapter was written five minutes before posting.

Disclaimer: I do not own this disclaimer.

* * *

87 - Gum

"Tony-"

"Look, Dok-ta! Look what I can do!"

"Tony, I really don't think your mum's gonna be… WOW! Can I have a go?"

"Yeah!"

_Chomp. Chomp. Slurp. Whoosh._

"Not fair, Dok-ta! I want another one!"

_Chomp. Slurp. Whoosh!_

"You're really good at that Tony! Just mind you don't get it on-"

_POP._

"Oh."

_Slam!_

"What the _hell_ is going on here?"

"Well… well Rose, you see, me and Tony-"

"Decided to decorate the carpet with bubblegum?"

"It really wasn't-"

"The Dok-ta showed me how to blow BIGbubbles!"

"Did he now? Well, we'll just have to see what Mum has to say about 'The Dok-ta'…"

"Rose, you _wouldn't_."

"Oh, I would. Unless you clear up."

"Me, clear up?"

"MUM-"

"OK! I'm clearing!"

"Rose, why you smiling at the Dok-ta?"

"Because, Tony, what just happened is an example of the Doctor getting whipped."


	88. Communication

A little bit of post-'Greeks Bearing Gifts' Torchwood for you, from a pairing prompt by Derek Metaltron.

Disclaimer: Hello, you've reached Disclaimers Direct (TM). Your disclaimer will be shipped out to you in three to four days. Unless you don't own it, in which case we advise you to leave before we send out the missiles.

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88 - Communication

Toshiko was snapped out of her Mary-based reverie by a hand taking hers. She looked up sharply, only to find Jack smiling at her. "I thought you left."

"I did. Came back as well. Thought you could use a drink."

Tosh looked down at the roughened hand clasping hers, and her lips curled to match Jack's. "A drink would be good."

---

"You _liar._"

"I'm not lying!" Jack protested through Toshiko's choked laughter. "It really happened!"

"I _don't_ believe you. How come all of your stories end with everybody naked?"

"Because it's more fun that way."

At this point the waitress chose to scowl disapprovingly at them, which for some reason only made Tosh laugh harder.

---

Three cups of coffee later, and the laughter had finally worn off. Jack, however, had continued to tell anecdotes - with varying reactions from Tosh.

All traces of a lightened mood were wiped out, though, when Jack said "And then the guy and his girlfriend, Mary I think she was called, tried to-"

He stopped short as Toshiko visibly winced. "Damn. I'm sorry, I didn't think-"

"It's fine," she cut across. "I've just got to get used to it." And the truth was, sitting in this tiny café with Jack, she had completely failed to remember it for a few hours. Mary, the pendant, all of it was wiped out by a good friend and a drink or two. "Thank you, Jack."

"For what?"

"For helping me forget."

And suddenly, Toshiko realised how close they were. Leaning across the table, arms almost touching, and she was struck by the urge to move closer. Jack wouldn't mind, wouldn't laugh at her or turn away, and she so _desperately_ wanted to forget again…

The moment passed.

Jack stood abruptly and offered his arm to her. "Time you got back, I think. Long day tomorrow."

She smiled, grateful for the absence of what could have been very awkward, and took the offered arm. "Home, Captain Harkness?"

"Home, Miss Sato."


	89. Penance

This (original, not prompted) idea has been buzzing around for weeks, but I had no time to write it. So I _made_ time.

Disclaimer: Whilst I have not quite run short of fic ideas, I have pretty much run out of disclaimer ideas. Anyone got a prompt?

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89 - Penance

Hand in hand with Donna, the Doctor walks out of the Adipose Industries building and throws the sonic pen into a bin.

Donna turns to look at him like he's crazy. "Oi! What d'you think you're doing?"

"Well…" he turns, half-heartedly, to look back at the bin, and amid her cries of "That saved our lives!" he fishes it back out and hands it to her.

"Go on, then. All yours."

And they head back to the TARDIS.

---

There are Ood coming towards them at a frightening pace, holding translator balls aloft, and all the Doctor can think about is how he never got to show Donna the star fire on Kalona…

And then she deftly moves away from him, fiddles with the sonic pen, then uses a frequency even he has never heard of to placate the Ood.

He stares, open-mouthed, as she holds the tiny instrument in one hand and swings an empty pair of handcuffs in the other.

"I hate to say 'I told you so', but…"

---

It's how she realises something is wrong.

Because whenever she turns to look at the mysterious 'something' on her back, whenever the strange blonde girl appears, whenever she wakes up at night shaking from dreams about a man she's never met, she plunges her hand into her pocket to reach for a small, smooth object that should reassure her.

But it doesn't, because there is nothing there. And she starts to wonder if maybe that blonde girl had a point about a different world.

Maybe a world where the words 'pen' and 'sonic' sit a little more easily in the same sentence.

---

"Please don't do this."

She's begging him, and it's breaking his heart, and he's _so _sorry, but he doesn't know any other way. There's nothing he can do except this, with the feel of her temples under his fingertips and the sound of her cries…

Wait…

"Donna, where's your sonic pen?"

She cuts off abruptly. "_What?_" But she's already pulled it out of her pocket and handed it to him. He does the same with the sonic screwdriver, fiddling with them both, his fingers clumsy with anxiety and haste. The explanation he blurts out is instinctive, really; a coping mechanism designed to stop his brain from noticing that his fingers aren't working fast enough.

"One sonic device isn't enough, but two harmonising and resonating at the same frequency as your brain should synchronise. Then we scale down the frequency slowly until your brain is back at its usual level! Like turning down the volume on the TV."

But she isn't even listening anymore; all that matters is the uncomfortable feeling in her head as the DoctorDonna quietens and her headache suddenly recedes…

Then he's laughing, and she is too, and they're swirling around the console in a giddy half-dance of sheer _relief_, all the while clutching the two sonic devices as if they're made of gold.

---

Hand in hand with Donna, the Doctor walks out of the Adipose Industries building and throws the sonic pen into a bin.

And they head back to the TARDIS.


	90. Agents

xAngelus's Darlax, this might be a little more angsty than you imagined, but I did my best: The Doctor and Captain John Hart. Set somewhere between 'The Waters Of Mars' and the Christmas Specials - until canon erases it from the history books, anyway.

Disclaimer: I can say 'yes' in four different languages. But somehow 'no' still seems to be the word that crops up.

* * *

90 - Agents

"I hear we have a mutual friend."

The Doctor looked up from the paperwork, removing his glasses to rub his eyes tiredly. Between his fingers appeared a man with short brown hair and a red Napoleonic jacket, leering slightly. Despite his better instincts (one of which has a strange Northern twang), he chose to ask "Which friend?"

The man's predatory smile grew, if possible, even wider. "One Captain Jack Harkness."

The Doctor's eyes narrowed as he wondered how a man knowing Jack Harkness could possibly have turned up here. "And your name is?"

"Captain John Hart."

The Doctor gave a snort of laughter. "Another Captain J H. What a coincidence! Unless, I don't know, that name is some sort of Time Agent standard issue?"

Hart's face dropped so quickly it was almost comical. "You know I'm from the Agency?"

"Well, that wrist strap you're wearing is a big giveaway. Plus, only a fifty-first century human could keep a smirk going for that long."

A pause. "You're not how I imagined."

The Doctor smiled, just a little bit, in a very dangerous way. "And just what did you _imagine_, Mr. Hart?"

"Captain," snapped the other man. But the substitution had done its job - he was unnerved. "And for one thing, I didn't think the mythical Lord of Time would be trying to sort out the administrative errors of the recently disbanded Time Agency."

"Well, everyone needs a hobby."

"Are you honestly telling me that you've got nothing better to do than lock yourself in a small wooden room doing pointless paperwork? Seems to me like you're hiding from something."

And just like that, when the Doctor was caught off-guard, Hart's mental battering ram broke down his telepathic barriers.

_-dizzy spinning colours, a million threads of time, light and shade and pain and hurt and kill, i lost her, i killed him, i'm sorry, so very sorry, why did you leave me? don't go, don't leave me on my own, don't cry, don't tell me it wasn't my fault, just love me and leave me and take a piece with you when you go-_

Hart stumbled backwards, gasping, and slumped to the floor against the doorframe. The Doctor watched emotionlessly, then spoke in a voice that did not betray a hint of what was going on inside his mind.

"You're right. I'm hiding from something. But if I wanted you to know what that something is, I would have told you myself. Don't try using your Agency tricks on me again. It won't work."

Hart watched him return to the paperwork for a moment, then stood shakily. The flashes of emotion he had gleaned from the Doctor were enough to ensure that all bravado and mind games had been dropped. "That redhead was right."

The Doctor's head snapped up, showing the first hint of any true feelings on his face. If there had been an expression to show the utter desolation in his mind, this must have been it. "Redhead?"

"Yeah. She said you needed someone to stop you."

"You got that from my memories?"

"No, Jack's friend said…" At this, Hart got a very confused look on his face which cleared almost immediately. "The same girl as in your… You need to go back to Earth."

The Doctor was struck by the sudden purpose in the other man's voice. "Are you going to give me a reason?"

"I was sent to find you by Jack. He wanted you to meet… doesn't matter. But the world is ending, or at least the bit with Earth in it, and while I don't particularly care, he does. So sod the paperwork, go and save the world, and maybe listen to that redhead in future."

_But this doesn't make sense_, the Doctor thought. _The only redhead who's ever said that is…_

"And she said if you needed more convincing, which you obviously do, I was to tell you two words."

"What was her name?" the Doctor cut across. He'd had this conversation before, eerily, and this time felt just as ominous.

Hart shrugged. "Never caught it. But she said you'd know what this meant. Bad Wolf?"

The Doctor was running for the TARDIS before Hart had even turned around.


	91. Prey

Now then... it's 'guess who' time. Be honest: guess who this is before the end. Were you right?

Disclaimer: The object of this fic has not been treated well by his/her/its previous owners. Therefore, I take custody of him/her/it. Simples!

* * *

91 - Prey

They will put you in a cage, a metal room to trap your spirit. Lure you in with sweet promises, then lock you away. You will be no valued asset; you will merely be their pet, their plaything.

You will be let out of the zoo occasionally, be allowed to stretch your legs and spread your wings, but really there is nowhere left for you to go. The life you know now will be left far behind, and you will return to them time and again. You can do nothing else.

In this far-off future, you will be used. They will exploit what you can do and bend it to their own purposes: to impress; to shock; to fight on the front lines. But they will spare no thought for you afterwards. Your importance is only that which will further their goals.

And finally, you will be lost. Although you have seen them come and go, old replaced with new, it will be your cage itself that finally ends you. You will depart in fire, unmissed and unmourned; they will spare you no second thoughts until the damage is well and truly over.

But these things are a long way from coming to pass. Immutable, yes, but distant. So for now, my friend, live your life and fly close to the wind. For now, Myfanwy, be free.


	92. Beef

This came from one of the most random prompts I've ever received. Hope this suits, Derek Metaltron, and I'm trying not to think about how easy it was to come up with this... It's scary.

Disclaimer: The Allosaurus belonged to the Jurassic period and was a large theropod... that's not what you were after, is it?

* * *

92 - Beef

"Picnic, Martha!"

Martha groaned. She could tell it was going to be a long day, because the Doctor was in one of his 'the-Universe-is-the-best-thing-ever-so-let's-see-every-little-bit-of-it-before teatime' moods. The last time this had happened (and it lasted three days), he had left a planet-wide trail of confectionary-based devastation in his wake, and only stopped when he had bounced - on a space hopper - half a mile down a hill before realising Martha was no longer with him. It apparently took another three hours for him to bounce back up the hill - but here she was relying on what he had told her, having collapsed from nervous exhaustion.

So, yes. A very long day.

"Hurry up!" she heard him whine, and she suppressed another groan as she closed the TARDIS doors behind her.

---

_OK,_ thought Martha. _It's not been _too_ bad so far…_

They had set up the picnic at the bottom of a valley. Surrounding them were wide green mountains (whether from grass or alien rocks, she didn't know) and the sun hung high in the sky. Said sky was a brighter blue than any sky had a right to be, and Martha concluded that all in all this place was the best argument against pollution she had ever seen.

The Doctor, however, was more concerned about his sandwiches. He had happily munched his way through four of them, and was now onto his fifth, in the time it had taken her to eat half a packet of crisps. Desperately trying (and failing) to resist her inner advice-giving medic, she settled for asking "What's in those sandwiches?"

The Doctor looked slightly disgruntled at having his mouthful interrupted, and replied "Cwungh bouife". Martha presumed this translated as 'Corned beef' and wrinkled her nose.

He tried to offer her a sandwich every two minutes after that; Martha politely declined each time, then changed the subject to the sunburn she was sure he would soon be developing.

---

"Well, I did warn you."

The Doctor scowled at her under the layer of white after-sun which covered his bright red nose. "And I suppose, Little Miss Perfect, that you put suntan lotion on?"

Martha's grin grew wider, and just a tad superior. "My skin's darker, so I need less. Although…" and she reached into the picnic basket to produce a small bottle, "… I did put a little on, just in case."

Another scowl. Then a disconcerting smile. Then a hand grabbing the bottle off her…?

"AARGH!" she shrieked as he popped the lid and squirted her in the face.

"Ha ha! Admit defeat!"

"No, not the sun cream-" and she gestured behind him "-the dinosaur!"

"What?" He twisted at an unnatural angle to see where she was pointing. "Aww! It's so cute!"

"_Cute?_"

"Yeah-"

ROAR.

"OK, it wants to eat us… but it's still cute."

Martha just glared at him. "_Do something_."

"Oh! Right." And he rummaged through the picnic basket, facing away from the rapidly approaching dinosaur until-

"Aha!" He threw an unidentifiable something towards the dinosaur, which… turned to run after the object?

The Doctor turned happily back to the picnic for at least a minute before Martha's unspoken order of _Explain_ became too much to ignore. "Allosaurus, if I'm not mistaken. Docile as a kitten with the right treatment."

"What did you throw at it?" Martha said, somehow combining wariness and exasperation in her tone.

"Corned beef," he replied triumphantly. "Want a sandwich?"


	93. Evolution

Set in Torchwood's EndOfDays-KissKissBangBang gap. Big thanks to GeekyKeen for the idea. This fits into continuity with another Torchwood fic of mine, 'But Words Will Break My Heart' (Shameless advertising? Moi?), although reading is not necessary.

Disclaimer: Instead, a warning. For some inexplicable reason, I am insanely proud of this. That was your last chance to run...

* * *

93 - Evolution

Gwen brought him a coffee.

_Gwen_ brought _him_ a coffee.

"Just thought you could use one," she addressed to his confused look. "After all, you're always doing it for us. Black, two sugars, right?"

The next day, when she came into work, a steaming cup of her favourite hot chocolate and a muffin were carefully placed on her desk.

---

Gwen was about ready to throw the files at the wall. "I don't under_stand_."

Ianto, who had slipped quietly into the room, tugged them gently from her hands and pushed lightly on her shoulders until she was sat down.

She turned to look at him, as helpless as he'd ever seen her. "Ianto, what am I doing? Sitting on Jack's chair, in Jack's office, trying to make sense of the _bloody_ mess that Jack left us with?"

He knelt down by the chair and pulled her into a hug. "You're doing well, is what you're doing. Better than any of us could."

Her next words were muffled, but the pleading tone was verging on desperate. "I know Owen said I should, but are you _sure_ you don't want to be leader? You know how this stuff works inside out…"

"For the last time, neither me nor Tosh has any interest in taking over from you."

"You mean Jack."

"I mean you." He pulled back slightly to look her in the eye. "You're good at this, Gwen. Just have a little faith."

As he left, he offered her his handkerchief. It was returned the next day, washed and ironed, with no sign of the tears it had wiped away.

---

She found him sat on the kitchen floor with tears streaming silently down his face.

He looked blurrily up at her. "You and Jack… did you ever-"

"No," she cut across firmly. "Never got that far. You?"

"A bit," he acquiesced as she slumped beside him. "You love him as much as I do, don't you?"

She smiled ruefully as he lay down with his head in her lap. "Tell me about how you met."

He talked for hours, telling her everything about his time at both Torchwoods. She asked no questions; she just let him speak and stroked his hair soothingly.

After that, once a week (usually Monday) they would go to the kitchen after Owen and Tosh had left and talk about anything. Relationships, the X-Factor, rugby, college, Harry Potter…

They never sat on the floor again, though.

---

"Ianto? Do you know where the- AARGH!"

"Gwen?" Ianto went charging off towards the sound, silently cursing his own refusal to teach the rest of them any more than the basics of the archive system. If anything happened to her…

He finally reached where the sound had come from (Row Thirty-Seven, Stock Room B, Shelf Six), to find Gwen soaked to the skin and holding an upside-down glass box with the tips of her fingers. Brightly coloured objects were scattered around her.

"I was looking for a Vrtrixian Peace Treaty, and I found a tank of dead fish."

Ianto couldn't help but laugh; the feeling only intensified with her next words.

"If Owen hears about this, I will retcon every ounce of Torchwood out of that brain of yours."

Ianto turned to the shelf behind him, and pulled out a Culan towel and a Tranial hairdryer. To her credit, Gwen's composure lasted about fifteen seconds before she joined him in tears of laughter.

---

"He's not coming back, is he?"

Ianto was more than a little drunk at this point, and only felt the need to voice this sentiment because Owen and Tosh had gone to get another round in. Thursday nights were pub nights, Gwen had insisted, and although they had all complained at first, the social time was doing them good. It was very difficult to brood about work when you were wholly focused on pool tournaments and drinking games.

Gwen looked at Ianto inscrutably, then sighed and took his hand. "No, sweetheart, I don't think he is."

Ianto downed the last of his pint, then placed his other hand on top of hers. "Good."


	94. Anniversary

Tacel wanted some Sally Sparrow, so that's what I wrote. Not a clue what kind of stories Sally is referring to here - help me out?

Disclaimer: These days, I am barely in control of my own mind.

* * *

94 - Anniversary

It's that time of year again.

No, not Christmas. And not a birthday either. It's the day when I go back to Wester Drumlins.

I'm not entirely sure why I go back. Larry thinks I'm crazy - he reckons one of these days I'll knock over one of the Weeping Angels and the whole sorry mess will start again. Don't blink, indeed.

Maybe it's because of Kathy. I've kept in contact with the grandchildren, told them my story. Some days they believe me; others, they smile and shake their heads. They're always eager to tell me _their_ stories, though; stories of their grandmother and the tales she told them. It's funny, but I can't picture Kathy as an old woman. In my head, she's always exactly the same as the day she vanished, right down to the clothes. Of course she's surrounded by adoring grandchildren, so such a thing is impossible. Then again, bigger on the inside…

Possibly it's Billy I go back for. I have dreams sometimes, where we're back in that car park. Sometimes we go for that drink. Other times, I stay and we both end up in the past. Then there are the ones where that blue box opens up. Those are the ones where I step inside, turn around and Billy's face has aged. Those are the ones where I wake up sobbing and it takes an hour of Larry talking about nothing to get rid of the image of Billy in that hospital.

I walk through the gates - nobody bothers to lock them anymore - and head down to the cellar. I sit in the middle of the circle of Angels and suddenly realise.

I'm here for them. Because in the whole of their lives, every time they get close to someone, no-one can even look at them. What was it the Doctor said? Lonely Assassins. And how lonely must it be, to go through life and never even be touched?

They don't deserve that. No-one does. So I come here, and I'll keep coming every year. And maybe, just maybe, they can hear my stories.


	95. Better

Sorry about the unexpected disappearance - RL got the better of me. Still, back now.

This one took me by surprise - a Nine ficlet, inspired by kalichan's Ten meta on LiveJournal. My brain works in a weird way.

Disclaimer: DW owns my soul.

* * *

95 - Better

It wasn't always like this.

You started your life in battle. The War took everything away until there was nothing left but you, and then even that was stolen. You can say what you like about 'new face, new start', but you're born with blood on your hands it's not so easy to get them clean, is it?

And then you wandered. The 'anywhere but here' mentality served you well for a time, because when you're running it's the pounding of your feet and the gasping of your lungs that matters. There is some relief from the feeling of a knife pressed against your heart, slicing you every time you take a step forward.

You stayed away from Earth, of course. Because you're a curse, aren't you? Doesn't matter how many you save, how many live to fight another day, it's the ones you love that pay. And you weren't quite ready to lose another home.

Then one day, you caught a signal. Something was wrong with that planet you'd been avoiding. And you thought, it can't hurt, can it? A cursory look round, fix the problem, go bury your head in some alien sand. Easy.

But you ran into a little girl, and she just wouldn't let go. And even when you left, all that went through your head was that girl. She looked you in the eye, heard what you had to say, and didn't see a monster. So you went back for her, asked her to see an alien sky. (Of course, you've been around humans for so long, you even consider yourself alien now.) And she said yes.

So you ran with her. Better with two, she said, and just for a second, you believed her. Of course you loved her, that goes without saying, because she brought you out of the darkness. Your brooding days in hell had been consigned to the past, and it felt almost sacrilegious not to love the angel who put them there.

Another came with you, for a time - light-spirited and open-hearted. And although you would never admit it, he became part of you as well. Your better half, you sometimes thought, and those were the times you almost laughed.

And far too quickly comes the end. When you began, all you could think about was getting it over with, going as quickly as possible to end the pain, but now that it's finally here, you're left thinking was that it? Was that all? There was so little time, and there was so much you never got to do…

You have but a minute to tell her, and as usual, you stuff it up. But you do manage one final sentiment - she was fantastic. She saved you. She loved you.

But the ironic thing, the thing you only realise when it's too late to change-

She may have been fantastic.

But so were you.


	96. Bicker

For xAngelus's Darlax - Jack, John and a time loop. On another note, I recently passed 10,000 hits - thank you everyone!

Disclaimer: I claim these ficlets as my very own. If I'm lucky, I can also get away with owning the computer.

* * *

96 - Bicker

_May 9__th__ - Loop One_

"What did you do?"

Jack was stood in the doorway, hands on hips, glaring at John. John himself was sprawled on the couch waving the remote control at the TV vaguely. "I didn't do anything," he replied, looking slightly annoyed that his programme had been interrupted.

"So why is it two weeks ago outside?"

Only a Time Agent could have immediately understood that sentence. "Oh! I thought I'd seen this episode before." John switched the television off, then manoeuvred so he was facing Jack. "So, why do you think I would do anything as… _subtle_… as a time loop?"

"_Subtle_?" Jack repeated incredulously. "You think setting up an entire village to repeat the same two weeks over and over again when we're supposed to be undercover is _subtle_?"

John shrugged. "At least this time nothing blew up."

---

_May 15__th__ - Loop 64_

"I figured it out, you know."

Jack just stared at John.

"You set up the loop, then tried to blame me to cover your tracks."

Jack said nothing.

"You know, if you wanted me all to yourself that badly, you could just have asked."

That provoked a smile. Silence fell for a few minutes while the two of them considered John's theory, until Jack broke the quiet.

"Did it work?"

A second passed. And another. Then-

"Yes."

---

_May 23__rd__ - Loop 130_

"You're _cleaning_?"

John looked up calmly, duster in one hand and polish in the other. "Yes, I'm cleaning. Does that surprise you?"

Jack just shook his head. "The dust disappears as soon as the loop repeats anyway. Why would you clean?"

"Would you believe me if I said I was bored?"

A pointed glare.

"OK, maybe not. The real reason is, we have tried everything both humanely and inhumanely possible to get out of the loop. We've blown stuff up, we've built technology, we've even made friends with the locals. But _nothing_ has worked. So I figured, the only thing we haven't tried is cleaning."

"You're such a housewife."

"Indeed. Would you like a cup of tea, darling?"

---

_May 24__th_

"It's May 24th!"

John ran round the house waving a newspaper triumphantly. The look Jack gave him, though, was nothing compared to the ones the neighbours had been throwing around when he ran down the street screaming the date at the top of his voice.

"Yes, alright, we can finally get out of here. So why are we not leaving? Why are you cheering instead?"

John stopped jumping around, faced Jack, and let the biggest smirk of his life cross his face. All of a sudden, Jack had a terrible feeling he knew what was coming…

"I told you cleaning was the answer."


	97. Transience

A strange little idea, once again in tribute to my slight obsession with Temping!Donna. Oddly enough, can be taken before or after 'Children Of Earth'.

Disclaimer: This company is mine. And with the profits, I will buy Doctor Who.

* * *

97 - Transience

"So, what skills do you think you could bring to the company?"

The dark-haired woman shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Truth be told, Donna could see where she was coming from - answering questions fired from random strangers in a stark beige office wasn't her idea of a good time either. But such was the nature of job interviews. Still - at least this time she wasn't on the question-receiving end.

The dark girl began a clearly-rehearsed speech in a shaky voice, but grew more confident towards the end. "I feel that my background in political administration has made me particularly suited to aiding communication in the workplace. I learn quickly, and I feel that your agency would best facilitate my talents on temporary placements."

The smiles on the other interviewers were slightly over-indulgent, and Donna recognised the warning signs from interviews of her own. This girl was a little too naïve, thinking that a rehearsed speech would impress. But Donna had a feeling, so as the head of the panel moved to dismiss the woman, she said-

"If I could just ask one more question?"

The head frowned at her over his glasses, but gestured for her to continue.

"Why temping? With your political connections, I'm sure you could have a permanent job within weeks. So why this?"

The girl looked, if possible, even more uncomfortable - she obviously hadn't prepared for this question. At first, Donna thought she'd been wrong and that there wasn't anything more to the girl, but then the reply came:

"I've seen what staying in one place can do to people. I used to know someone… a long time ago. Anyway, he stayed doing the same thing, day after day, and in the end there was nothing of him left. He didn't just do the job, he _was_ the job."

At this, the girl looked Donna straight in the eye.

"I don't want to end up like that. I want to go somewhere, help out as much as I can, then get the hell out and move on to something different. I don't want to be him."

A quick glance among the panel of interviewers. Then the head gave Donna a small nod, and with a feeling of triumph and pride, she extended her hand to the girl.

"Welcome to the agency, Lois Habiba."


	98. Ancestry

As requested by GeekyKeen: the strange relationship between two characters in different shows and different time periods, played by the same actor. No, not Gwyneth and Gwen - the other two...

Disclaimer: The middle man is mine. Ask him yourself!

* * *

98 - Ancestry 

A man who was not a man saved Caecillius.

This is a small thing. But as the saviour had once said, there is now a man alive who was not alive before. And that changes everything.

Caecillius, in his own small way, makes a difference. A kind word here, an exchange of goods there. It all adds up. And his children continue the changes - in larger ways, obviously. After all, there are more of them.

The thing is, all those tiny oddities in the intended timeline, they create a sort of… force. Like a pull on the fabric of space and time, just a slight tug at causality. And that pull causes things to occur that otherwise would have disconnectedly drifted away.

For example, in a year known by some as 1206, a distant child of Caecillius became an armour-polisher for the local gentry. He later became known by that name - Frobisher.

The name carried on, floating on the eddies of time and buoyed up by that tiny pull. It drifted down the ages, alighting softly one morning on another man; a man by chance identical to that long-forgotten grandfather.

That long-ago saviour had a name for the phenomenon: Spatial Genetic Multiplicity. But why quibble with science? The importance here is the outcome.

Because all of these things, converging on one man, pulled space and time too far. Something had to give - the line of Caecillius had been all but eradicated, but this particular branch had been travelling far too long and the Universe was splitting at the seams because of it. It had to stop.

A slight call to the galaxy's furthest reaches, a tweak at some far-away evolution to make those children irresistible… All to end the twisted line. The handiwork of Reapers is not always obvious.

Events came to pass as planned. The last descendents of Caecillius became simply a footnote in the pages of history.

John Frobisher may not have saved the world, but he certainly saved the Universe.


	99. Trageday

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Blame martha smith, who let me loose on Doomsday. Hence, my pitiful attempt at comedy.

Disclaimer: After this, do you really think anyone would _let_ me own it?

* * *

99 - Trageday

LAST TIME ON DOCTOR WHO…

Rose: Mum! Have some washing!

Doctor: Ghosts! Must… fix… Universe…

Yvonne: Doctor! _(applauds throughout)_

Doctor: Cybermen! Cool! I mean… oh no.

Rose: Mickey!

Mickey: I'm here to help! Make a change! Feed the world!

Daleks: EX-TER-MIN-ATE!!!

Fanbase: Daleks? Again? Oh, God…

CREDITS - ALL TOGETHER NOW… OOH-EE-OOH!

Rose: _(to someone off-screen)_ Hold on! The author hasn't seen this episode in a while and can't remember the details!

Russell T. Davies: _(sitting at computer) _She's right! I don't remember a thing! _(deletes bulk of script, replacing with words 'cut to cool-looking montage of stuff blowing up. Insert technobabble. Cue screaming during fangirl-nightmare scene of Rose falling into Void.)_

_CUT TO COOL-LOOKING MONTAGE OF STUFF BLOWING UP._

_INSERT TECHNOBABBLE._

_CUE SCREAMING DURING FANGIRL-NIGHTMARE SCENE OF ROSE FALLING INTO VOID:_

Doctor: ROSE! NO!

Rose: DOCTOR! NO!

_(Suddenly, another Doctor appears behind her, catches her, then they both get pulled into the Void. It closes behind them with a scrunched-up tissue effect.)_

Doctor: Oh, dear…

_TAKE TWO:_

Doctor: ROSE! NO!

Rose: DOCTOR! NO!

_(Suddenly, Pete appears, holding out his arms. Rose flies straight past him into the Void, which closes behind her.)_

Pete: Oh, dear. Another two feet to the left, I think.

_TAKE THREE:_

Doctor: I'm so glad I asked Rose and her family to wait in the TARDIS! Now all my problems are solved!

_(Suddenly, the TARDIS comes crashing into the room and falls into the Void, which closes behind it. The Doctor stares slightly in shock, then shrugs.)_

Doctor: Oh, well. _(pulls out phone)_ Hello? I need a new assistant for Series 3. I hear Freema Agyeman's hot- I mean, available…


	100. Axiom

The big 100! Thank you so much to everyone who's read and/or reviewed so far. I honestly never thought I'd get here! But in the true spirit of DW, I'm going 'travelling' for a few days. So sorry, people - no updates until Wednesday. You don't have to cheer quite so loudly.

On the ficlet: the abstract is back. And in its time away, it has matured into incomprehensibility. Let me know if you understand this, because I don't. The format is borrowed - heavily - from Noldo's 'The Frozen Hours'. You could always go and read that instead.

Disclaimer: I wrote 100 chapters. Surely I have _some_ claim?

* * *

100 - Axiom

This is true:

There is one who runs like fire. Warmth from the palm of his hand, but hold on a little too long and the skin blisters. The grip is possessive and restraining, but let any man tell me he could walk away with ease and I shall tell you that man is a liar.

---

"Of course, the Universe isn't _really_ expanding - it's just a trick of the light. The _real_ explanation is far more complex - haven't I ever showed you the star-storm on Metavon X?"

---

Above all thing, remember this: history is not a home.

It cannot be ignored. You cannot walk blithely from room to room, surveying at your leisure. You cannot choose to buy or sell, to simply up and move away. You certainly cannot pick the colours for this wall, uproot the carpet from the stairs, change the furniture and the dressings.

Remember this: history is interminable.

---

"And so we go, fall to the centre and never look up, take the low road and off to the sea."

---

There is a room, hidden under many layers, where the sun shines green and the coral clings to the ceiling. And in this room is a broken man, all flashing stars and painted smiles, and he _never_, _always_, _maybe_ is alright. But then again, maybe he isn't.

---

"You _see_? I told you we were right! Everything has a time and a place."

---

But then again, Gallifrey was never real. That red sky was only memory made canvas; the silver mountains were just the threads of time spun far too close to a man's heart. Never risk breaking it, never cut the threads. Who can tell what will unravel with the lie?

---

"Straight on till twilight and second star to the left. That's the way out of Never Land."

---

Something less, more, contradictory, calming about his presence. Run with the fire, burn if you must, but keep the melted ice in a corner of your heart. You may have need of it one day.

After all, nothing can run forever.

---

"So what should I tell them? Do you leave, stay, request permission? Choose quickly - I never stay for long and I _never_ ask twice."

---

No-one expects it to be easy. But you must make the stand now; reactionary Alice or curious Lucy? Wonderland or wardrobe? Death by starlight or snow?

Above all, can you be _her_? Can you wait forevermore, pin your dreams on a message board and hope that he still reads the language? Or will you break, take your chances, cut your losses and choose the walk.

Take your time. We have until Universe End.


	101. Duplicity

Back again. No holidays for a while, I promise.

martha smith, this is all yours. Exactly what you asked for, but twisted in that special way that signifies my brain exploding.

Disclaimer: RTD takes no holidays. He also does not have to go to school. Therefore, I am not RTD.

* * *

101 - Duplicity

Donna groaned and opened her eyes.

Bright, bright lights, far too dazzling…

She shut them again quickly.

"Oh, sorry, Donna," a voice she couldn't quite place whispered in her ear. She was very grateful - the person was at least being mindful of the thumping headache she had. Although, how did whoever it was know…?

She opened her eyes again and instead of the blinding light, the Doctor and a vaguely familiar blonde girl swam into view. Was that… Rose Tyler?

A ragged gasp escaped her as the images hit. Two Doctors, Davros, towing the Earth home, a parallel beach, cool fingers on her temples and someone else in her head… Then just as quickly, as if someone had switched them off, the pictures muted.

"Donna? You alright?" The Doctor frowned at her; she could tell he was on the point of pulling out his glasses.

"I'm fine," and she shook her head, hoping to dislodge the pain. It didn't work. "What happened? The last thing I remember is being locked in the TARDIS. What about the Daleks?"

"Well-" Rose and the Doctor began at the same time. He motioned for her to continue, and she giggled before speaking. "Sarah Jane had this… explosion in a necklace, and we used that to blow up the Crucible. Then Jack used his wrist strap - told you that would come in useful-" and she elbowed the Doctor "-to take us back in time. We picked up the TARDIS before it was destroyed, and off we went! You hit your head and passed out though… sorry about that…"

_You don't look sorry_, thought Donna, then chided herself. The girl was happy, she'd just got the love of her life back, and if the way they were holding hands was anything to go by, so had the Doctor. Of course she wasn't inclined to being sympathetic. "Where's everyone else?"

"Gone," said the Doctor promptly. "We're back on Earth, and they all had to go home." His face twisted apologetically, but something flickered in his eyes.

_Oh, shut up_, thought Donna to her suspicious half. _He just wants some time alone with Rose, and you're getting in the way. Two's company…_

"I'll be going too, then," she announced.

To his credit, the Doctor, just for a second, looked desolately heartbroken. Then the happy smile was back in place. "You sure? Plenty of room for one more." But the possessive look on Rose's face said otherwise.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Time for me to stop running and get a life here on Earth."

"OK!" he said brightly, and rushed off to the control room. Rose started after him, then stopped and settled on the bed.

She took Donna's hand. "Thanks for this. I know you're only doing this for me."

_Actually, I'm doing it for him._ Something about the whole situation didn't seem quite right. But maybe it was just the headache - after all, she'd had the strangest dream…

Rose helped her stand, and they walked together to the console room. They appeared to have landed already, and the Doctor was lugging her suitcase outside. "The TARDIS packed for you," he explained. "She must really like you."

They stood awkwardly for a second, then Donna walked towards the door. She stopped in the doorway, and turned back. "Well… bye, then."

"Yeah… bye," the Doctor said distractedly. He and Rose had already walked to the console and were planning their first trip.

Donna stood still for a moment, shocked by the callous farewell, then shook off the uneasy feeling. _Your choice, remember. No need to drag it out_.

But as she exited the TARDIS for the last time, she thought she caught a glimpse of the Doctor's old hand, pulsing with a strange golden light.

And as she hauled her suitcase away from the rapidly disappearing blue box, she could have sworn she felt the Earth turning beneath her, and a heartbeat not her own thundering in her ears.


	102. HalfFull

Companion to Half-Empty (C43), written for Derek Metaltron. Relatively short, because let's face it: he's four and he's dead. There's not a whole lot of thinking going on there.

Disclaimer: Christopher Eccleston doesn't want his episodes. Do you see where this is going?

* * *

102 - Half-Full

I'm scared. Mummy, I'm so scared.

It's so dark outside. I know that you said it's silly to be afraid of the dark, but now the bombs are coming.

The last thing I remember is the bombs. One of them landed really close, and there was this gold light, and when I woke up I was all alone. I don't like being alone.

Mummy, why do the other children run away? I just want to be friends with them. I don't want to hurt anyone. Why don't they understand?

Mummy, it hurts. In my head, it's all swirling, and I can't see properly, and I can't…remember… can't…

Mummy, I can't…

…remember…

…you.

Are you my Mummy?


	103. Nomenclature

This is a weird little one. My brain seems to have a mind of its own, so to speak. Anyway, the last line may seem a little cliche, but I couldn't resist.

Disclaimer: One hundred and three. Not mine. One hundred and four... oh, sorry, that's next chapter's.

* * *

103 - Nomenclature　

__

Someone, somewhere, should know the truth.

He stepped out of the blue box onto the planet. Utterly alone - no brave companion to hold his hand - he silently passed through the forest towards the babbling brook, and _listened_.

No animals. No life of any kind, save plants. And him.

The only noises were a slight rustling in the trees, and the flowing water.

__

Lose yourself to time, but not to memory.

He followed the brook down, walking for hours as it first became a stream, then a river. The sound of the water swelled, epic harmonies draping over thundering basslines. He stood for a moment, lost in the music, then turned from the river to began a steady journey up to the top of the overhanging cliffs.

The clouds hung menacingly overhead, but he pressed on and was soon level with them. He continued his climb to the precipice, and looked over the edge. A slight laugh escaped him as he wondered if the fact that the planet was entirely covered in trees would prevent it from being called a forest.

__

What's in a name? That which we call a rose…

And the word sprang unbidden to his lips; the forgotten syllables soaring through the air to the trees below, the clouds only serving to echo and amplify. He repeated it, over and again until he was shouting at the top of his voice; the sole sound on a lonely world.

The Doctor's name settled on the land like a melody, heard only by the softly singing river.


	104. Sushi

Time for a little juvenile humour, methinks. Ever wonder what happened between 'Boom Town' and 'Bad Wolf'? Well now, courtesy of Derek Metaltron, you can find out...

Disclaimer: I own the nonsensical representation of 14th century Kyoto, and apologise to any Japanese people accordingly.

* * *

104 - Sushi　

"I am _not_ eating raw fish."

Jack smirked at Rose, dangling the tiny morsel in front of her. "Come on, Rosie. Just a little bite."

The Doctor scowled over at them behind a market stall. "You'll eat beef milkshakes and chips made out of broccoli, but you won't eat raw fish?"

"Yeah, but this is a little bit different, isn't it?" she replied, staring pointedly at the stall they'd just got the fish from.

__

Fifteen minutes earlier…

"Run!"

The three of them fled down an alleyway. The Valtraxian was gaining on them with every second, though; it was brandishing a large, squat gun which glinted red in the Kyoto sun.

"The buildings are made of wood!" puffed Rose. She was having a hard time keeping up with the longer-legged men.

The Doctor turned slightly to grin at her, never breaking pace. "Really? Well done! Ten out of ten for observation. Your point?"

"He's got a… a _flame gun_. The whole place could go up in smoke."

"Ah."

"Change of plan," Jack cut in. "Next right."

They made the specified turning and found themselves… in a marketplace?

Rose slipped off to the side. Jack wasted no time in grabbing a sharp implement from the nearest stall, and the Doctor followed suit. They turned to face the Valtraxian, standing shoulder to shoulder, prepared to defend Kyoto, and Rose, at all costs. The Valtraxian, sensing their presence, began to run even faster towards them, waving the gun menacingly and preparing to fire…

Until it fell face-forward onto the ground, dropping the gun in the process and smashing the animation circuit affixed to its chest. The Doctor and Jack stared, slightly stunned, as it slowly turned back into the dead chunk of fish it had originally been before alien technology had made it sentient.

Rose stepped back out towards them, wincing slightly as she leaned on the foot she had tripped the Valtraxian up with. She turned to a shell-shocked fishmonger who had seen the whole thing, and simply said "We were never here. You found this fish, and did what you wanted with it. OK?"

The fishmonger nodded slightly, then motioned to his young helpers to fetch the fish. Jack picked up the gun and they turned to leave, but the fishmonger moved to stand in front of them.

"Oh, no. You've been very generous. I shall give you a gift…"

---

Jack popped the small piece of sushi into his mouth as Rose watched in disgust. "That thing was _alive_, it was _chasing_ us, and you're stuffing your face with it?"

Jack simply shrugged. "What can I say? If you can't beat 'em, eat 'em."


	105. Bridge

This is in the same mode as Ancestry (C98), written for Derek Metaltron.

Disclaimer: I now appear to be stealing ideas from _myself_. Surely there are laws against this?

* * *

105 - Bridge

There is a crack in time.

Across this crack sits a little girl.

On a bridge she sits, feet in the water and head turned to the sky. If you were to ask her, she would say that it is so she can see everything. But the truth is, she dangles her toes in the current to feel the hum of time through her skin.

Every now and then, the girl dives into the water. Sometimes she stays for years; others, she spends decades among the waves. But every time, the girl loses something of herself. At times she tries too hard to help, and is set back upon the bridge only by the careful hands of mermen. Every now and then, she stays too long in the water and returns a little older than she was.

But now the time has come. The little girl has finally accepted that she has tarried too long in the stream, and the bridge is crumbling beyond repair. Again and again, she has seen boats attempt to drive the waves to greater heights, and it happens more every day.

She stands, and prepares to dive in for the last time. On this final occasion there will be no returning to the bridge; she will simply be swept along by the current. She thinks back to her previous adventures, and recalls a merman out of place in the crystal stream; a merman with close-cropped hair and a leather jacket, shot through with darkness. He did not call this place a stream, he said… what was the term? A rift?

The little girl looks out over the water, and tries to choose her destination. If she has to leave forever, she might as well choose where to spend her final days.

Her attention is caught by a bright, glittering stone in the depths, a little distance away. She has seen it many times before; it always appears immovable despite the fast-flowing water. That, she decides, will do very well.

She steps back, takes a deep breath… and _jumps_.

The last thing she feels before the current drags her away is the smooth surface of the iridescent stone enclosed in her searching fingers.


	106. Expedition

This was a long-ago request from xAngelus's Darlax. If you have even the most fleeting respect for Journey's End, look away now. It's about to be massacred.

Disclaimer: After this, do you honestly think they'd let me within ten miles of Cardiff?

* * *

106 - Expedition

_LAST TIME ON DOCTOR WHO:_

Sarah Jane: Please don't shoot me! I'll pay you anything!

Daleks: WE DO NOT ACCEPT CREDIT CARDS.

Ianto: Dying! Woohoo!

Gwen: Get the drinks in, Owen - we're coming to see you!

Doctor: Rose! _(runs towards her and trips over a brick)_

Rose: Doctor! Please don't regenerate! You might be ugly next time!

Doctor: Too late…

_CREDITS_

Russell T. Davies: Hang on… if I handwave the explanations, we can be done in half an hour! That leaves forty-five minutes for extended goodbyes!

_JUST TIME FOR SOME EDITED HIGHLIGHTS…_

_DONNA AND THE HAND-GROWN DOCTOR ARE IN THE TARDIS, AFTER DONNA GETS TRAPPED FOR NO DISCERNABLE REASON AND THEN TOUCHES A GLOWING SEVERED HAND. NO, I'M NOT PARODYING THIS BIT. THAT _ACTUALLY_ HAPPENED._

Donna: Oi!

Hand-grown Doctor: I'm just like you. Marvel at my ability to say 'Oi' and make obscure references to spanners.

_DAVROS'S LAIR. THE DOCTOR AND ROSE ARE A FEW FEET APART, LOOKING NERVOUS. UNDERSTANDABLE, SEEING AS THEY ARE STANDING IN SPOTLIGHTS._

Doctor: _(cautiously)_ So… Davros, mate…

Davros: _(suspiciously) _Yes?

Doctor: Well, I know you're trying to end the multiverse, and that's fine, good luck to you and all…

Davros: But?

Doctor: …What are you going to do afterwards?

Davros: Be quiet! _(mutters to self)_ Damn. Really should have thought this through.

_DONNA AND HER NEW… FRIEND… RUN OUT OF THE TARDIS, GET BLOWN AWAY, THEN COME BACK._

Donna: Aha! Davros, I will defeat you with my technobabble! Watch me destroy you using Dalek controls that have been inexplicably designed for human hands!

Davros: Oh no… _(cowers)_

_HAND-GROWN DOCTOR STARTS TO BLOW UP THE DALEKS AS EVERYONE PILES INTO THE TARDIS. DONNA ATTRIBUTES THIS TO HER AWESOMENESS._

Donna: You see, I got the best bit of the Doctor… I got his gob!

Russell T. Davies: Right. Now to drop all companions save two in the middle of an unspecified park. Cardiff or London, who cares if someone has a long walk home?

_AND… WE'RE BACK ON THE BEACH_.

Fangirls: I have a bad feeling about this…

Doctor: Even though I have committed genocide several times over, I'm leaving my identical twin with you. Why? Because it's a convenient way to deal with annoying loose ends.

Rose: _(considers)_ OK!

_CUE GRATUITOUS KISS WHICH DIVIDES FANGIRLS: THE VIDEO-MAKERS ARE CHEERING BECAUSE THEY FINALLY HAVE SOME PROPER KISS FOOTAGE TO WORK WITH. THE REST OF THEM ARE REFUSING TO BELIEVE THAT IT'S THE DOCTOR, BECAUSE _OBVIOUSLY_ THE REAL DOCTOR IS NOTHING MORE THAN THE TARDIS AND TIME TRAVEL. _

Russell T. Davies: You know, I've come to the conclusion that some people won't be crying over Rose's departure. So how do I get to them? I know! I'll erase an entire season's worth of believable, loveable character development!

_DONNA AND THE DOCTOR IN THE TARDIS. I THINK WE ALL KNOW WHERE THIS ONE'S GOING…_

_LATER, ON DONNA'S COUCH:_

Doctor: Sylvia, stop acting like a self-obsessed cow. Oh, hi, Donna!

Donna: Hi, random stranger. Do I know you from somewhere?

Doctor: No. Probably not… Wilf! Come see me cry in the rain!

_THEY DO SO._

_JUST TO FINISH OFF, WITH THE MUSIC TURNED UP TO ELEVEN AND EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS SCENE SCREAMING 'FEEL SAD! CRY!', WE HAVE A SHOT OF THE DOCTOR LEANING AT AN ODD ANGLE, LOOKING LIKE A KICKED PUPPY._

Cybermen: Are we in this bit? No? That's just not good enough! Delete 'Journey's End'. DELETE!


	107. Cartoon

Short one today, owing to my complete ignorance of the prompt matter. xAngelus's Darlax, I'm sorry. But there's only so much Wikipedia can do.

Disclaimer: I do not own Wikipedia, although it serves me on many occasions.

* * *

107 - Cartoon

"Jack? What are you watch-"

"_Shh_!"

"There's no need to throw popcorn."

"Doctor, sit."

"I-"

"_Sit_. And be quiet."

"…"

"…"

"Who's the yellow square?"

"I said _quiet_!"

"And the pink tongue?"

"Patrick? A _tongue_? He's a starfish!"

"Looks like a tongue."

"One more word, and I'll get Rose to call her mother."

"NO! I mean… fine. Whatever."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Why is a sponge talking?"

"OUT!"


	108. Substitute

High time for a little angst, I think. Set during Family of Blood, an episode most noteable for showing off David Tennant's acting. Even if you don't like the guy, you have to give him credit for making the Doctor being John Smith different from John Smith himself, whilst speaking with an accent. All hail DT.

Disclaimer: It's a missing scene! It could be anyone's!

* * *

108 - Substitute

John Smith. Even the name is a smokescreen.

Joan left some time ago, and you simply sit there. Was anything, you wonder, anything of your life real? Not the house you grew up in, nor the friends you depended on?

You think of the moment you decided to become a teacher. A little boy, crying over his history book, and you couldn't resist the challenge. Despite the disapproving glares of your parents, you began to act out the stories in the book, and the little boy laughed so hard he forgot that he was learning something.

You try to remember his name. His face. Where you were at the time. But there is only a cloudy mist over the whole event, and you suddenly realise that he never existed, except in your memory. And even that is only a shadow.

Actually, it's a metaphysical construct designed by the frontal-

No. That is _him_. That is not you talking.

So. Your life is a lie; your death will mean more than your entire existence. Your whole identity was merely an illusion to mask the man beneath, if he can be called that. And you must give up your life for those you have never met, because even if you turn away and run, he will continue to bleed through. And eventually, there will be nothing left in your head but him.

But surely, if he became you, then you are part of him? Even if only a passing thought, a fleeting fanciful dream, you must be part of him? Or maybe you are both the liars, and there is some higher power which imagined you both.

Too many questions.

But the Doctor… the Doctor would know. Because is that not what he does? Creates certainty from impossibility, answers the unanswerable? If you became him, would you know the answers too?

Only one way to find out. Goodbye, John. Thanks for the last few months, even if they are meaningless.

You open the watch.


	109. EvenHanded

grissomrocks raised a valid point about 'Expedition' (C106), so here as promised is the ficlet to answer it.

Disclaimer: I'll give you a fiver for the Whoniverse. What do you mean, _no_?

* * *

109 - Even-Handed

"_Ginger_?"

The Doctor stifled a most un-Doctorly giggle as Jack squirmed. Donna had been trying to wheedle the truth out of him for the past half-hour, and she had finally gotten her way. She did not, however, like Jack's answer.

"You didn't flirt with me because I'm _ginger_?"

The Doctor could hold it in no more, and laughed out loud. Donna immediately glared at him, but it seemed like instinct rather than any real malice. Jack, though, had sent him a look that by rights should have drove him to regeneration, before turning back to Donna.

"Well… in the fifty-first century, we didn't really have gingers. So I just…" He decided, wisely in the Doctor's opinion, that trailing off would be the best decision. Donna, in all of her flame-haired glory, was gearing up for a fight and no amount of 'I'm-an-alien-so-things-are-different' platitudes were going to dissuade her.

"Well in the twenty-first century, we don't really have bigoted, up-himself, cowardly gits, but you're still here," Donna answered icily. The Doctor had been the recipient of that tone on more than one occasion, and he had swiftly figured out that the best thing to do was apologise, leave, and return with chocolate. Jack, it seemed, hadn't got the memo.

"It's not _my_ fault you're _orange­_-"

SLAP.

As Jack's head jerked so far back he fell off his chair, Donna turned back to the Doctor with an innocent and slightly triumphant smile.

The Doctor looked from his bemused and dazed friend to his gleeful partner in crime, and suddenly decided he had a new favourite companion.


	110. Offer

martha smith owns my soul for the next few days, after a marathon prompt session! Not that I'm complaining. So, the first of four.

Disclaimer: Poor Clem. Dead now. So he's mine. Didn't you know? That's the rule.

* * *

110 - Offer

Why do you run away? We have so much to give you, Clement. More than you could possibly dream of on this tiny little world. We can make you live forever.

Why do you fight us? We are not your enemies. No, we are your only friends. We can take those gifts of yours - oh, didn't you know? You were special even before our help - we can take those gifts and make you so strong. We know you can feel the Timeless Man who sends you into our arms. We know everything about you.

Why are you scared? We take your friends and make them gods. Don't you want to hold the Universe in your hands, feel it flicker under your gaze?

Why won't you listen? We can feel you - so alone, so lost. We can take you in; join with us and you will never have to feel the silence in your head again.

Why- why do you- why do you…

Oh. You are too far gone. You have left us too far behind.

No matter. One day we shall return, and no matter how far you run, you cannot escape us then. We will no longer hide in the shadows. We will close our fingers around this planet and take every drop of what we need. And then we will find you.

You cannot run forever, Clement MacDonald. You are ours.


	111. Milliners

Second in the martha smith prompt series - Planet of the Hats. Can be a sequel to 'Dressage' (C26).

Disclaimer: I claim both Donna's and the Doctor's hats.

* * *

111 - Milliners

"Planet of the Hats, as requested."

"Wow." For the first time, Donna was well and truly speechless. There must have been more than a thousand people in the small market place, each one of them trying to outdo each other in the headgear department. Donna stared slightly as a blue cube with stick-legs pushed passed them, wearing not only a basket of fruit but several flowerpots as well on its flat head. "This is the first time I've ever felt underdressed wearing this hat."

The Doctor whipped out his glasses, and peered through them at the wedding-style lilac hat. "It looks fine to me. Lovely," he amended when she shot him a sideways glance. "You look brilliant."

"Alright, Spaceman, no need to overdo it," she smirked, scrutinising his plain brown fedora. She grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the TARDIS. "Let's explore!"

---

Some time later, they found themselves in a small café ("This place has more hat shops than cafés? That's just _weird_," Donna had commented) and were amusing themselves by trying to judge the type of person from the hat they were wearing.

"Him in the beret on the left, what do you think?"

"Only thing certain is that he's not French."

"And what about her with the head-to-toe one?"

"Is that- is that _moving_?"

"I think it's made of small furry animals."

"Oh…"

---

It was nearly sunset when they found themselves, quite by chance, back at the TARDIS. Donna smiled tiredly at the Doctor as he turned to unlock the door, but then-

"Hey! Give that back!"

A stunted man in a trilby had reached up to her head and plucked off her hat. He bowed from the waist (she assumed it was his waist) and offered her his own.

"Take it off him," the Doctor hissed. She looked at him confusedly, but accepted the gift. She lurched suddenly as the Doctor's hand pressed into her back, forcing her to bend into a bow. The small man narrowed his eyes, then nodded slightly and hopped off on one foot.

"Er, hand?" Donna said pointedly, as the Doctor turned slightly red and removed his from her waist. "So what was that all about?"

"It's a hat exchange. A mark of intense respect, to a Rapertunian."

"So why did this… Rapper…"

"Rapertunian."

"Yes, that… why did he pick me?"

The Doctor looked at her as if she was an idiot as she gaped at his next words. "Because you're ginger. Come on. Planet of the Shoes tomorrow!"


	112. Implicit

Third of the martha smith requests, a story about CAL's virtual world.

Disclaimer: It's virtual. Therefore, no-one can own it. And thus my point is proved.

* * *

112 - Implicit

That was not Lee's world.

He felt so- so _stupid_ for having believed it. The worst part is, he had known from the moment he arrived that something was wrong. That tiny niggling, the feeling that he was remembering something today that he hadn't known yesterday, was already part of him by the time he met Donna.

Donna…

He had looked for her, of course. He had spent two hours running searches, asking anyone who would listen. She had promised to find him, hadn't she? And his Donna always kept her promises.

The process was, of course, made more complicated by the fact that his stammer was now back in full force. It had improved in the virtual world - as he had no doubt it would improve in the real one, given time - but right now it was frustrating beyond belief. It took him ten minutes to get out the question "Is there any record of Donna McAvoy?", and then half-way through the search he realised that of course she wasn't Donna McAvoy. She never had been.

So he began again.

But eventually, he had to conclude that she was lost. There were no records of her anywhere; she had not been one of the people saved by the Library. She had never existed.

Unfortunately, it was at this point that he chose to remember his children. Josh and Ella, his babies, as insubstantial as their mother. Their loss hit him unexpectedly, like a knife through his heart, and for the first time in years (days? How does one count time which does not pass?) he broke down and cried.

So here he was, slumped on the floor; a grown man sobbing, and no-one paying him the slightest bit of attention. They were too busy congratulating themselves on having survived the experience.

Ultimately, as word got out that the teleports were ready, he pulled himself together and headed out. One last look at the Library, at the life he never had. He stood on the platform and from the corner of his eye…

Donna!

But she had her back to him, and his voice let him down. She was with a man in a suit - her husband? - and they were holding hands. Of course, if she had another life outside of here, she would want to forget all about him.

But as he left the Library for the last time, he was overcome with the feeling that one day they would be reunited. Maybe not soon, and maybe not for long, but one day.

The space on his hand tingled where his wedding ring had never been.


	113. Recoup

Final martha smith prompt for the moment. And with it, a notice: updates may be sporadic over the next few weeks, what with university stuff. I'll try to give notice where possible, but I apologise in advance if I go missing for a day or two with no warning. And on that note, there will be no update tomorrow, because I'm lucky if I've got time to breathe, let alone write. So to tide you over, have some faux-comedy.

Disclaimer: I'm actually really glad I don't own the crazed-fangirl reunion fics. So you can keep them. Let it never be said I'm not generous.

* * *

113 - Recoup

Rose: It's not _fair_!

Handy: I've been torn away from everything I ever knew, including the most brilliant woman I've ever met, for doing something _he's_ done loads of times, and you have the gall to complain that it's not _fair_?

Rose: But I wanted the one with the _time machine_!

_COMPLETELY LOST? NEED A RECAP?_

_I THINK THAT WOULD BE BEST._

_SO, ROSE SPENT ALL OF HER ENERGY OVER THE PAST GOD-KNOWS-HOW-MANY YEARS TRYING TO GET BACK TO THE DOCTOR. BECAUSE ACCORDING TO FANGIRLS, WITH A WHOLE NEW UNIVERSE THAT NEEDS BOTH PROTECTING AND EXPLORING AS WELL AS A HEAVILY PREGNANT MOTHER AND A NEWLY-RECOVERED FATHER, SHE HAS NOTHING BETTER TO DO THAN MOAN ABOUT HER LOST LOVE._

_THING IS, WHEN SHE FINALLY DID MANAGE IT, IT WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF ONE OF THE DOCTOR'S SELF-SACRIFICING KICKS, SO HE SENT HER BACK TO THE PARALLEL UNIVERSE WITH AN INSTANT!DOCTOR (JUST ADD DONNA). ROSE, IT APPEARS, IS NOT HAPPY WITH THIS ARRANGEMENT._

_WE REJOIN OUR HEROINE AS SHE RIPS A HOLE IN THE FABRIC OF SPACE AND TIME WITH HER SUPER!BADWOLF POWERS. OH, YOU DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT THOSE? _

Rose: Yippee! So long, suckers! _(jumps through hole, which closes behind her)_

Handy: Ro- _(she's already gone)_ Ah. Right. _(he turns to Mickey, and the part of him inherited from Donna flutters its eyelashes)_ So… it's Rickey, right?

_MEANWHILE, IN ANOTHER UNIVERSE, ROSE APPEARS ON BOARD THE TARDIS._

Rose: Doctor! I'm back! And now we can be together forev- _(She spots a young woman by the console, talking to an unfamiliar man in a tweed jacket.)_ Who are you?

Unfamiliar man in tweed jacket: Rose? What are you doing here? I thought I'd got rid- I mean, I thought you were living in a parallel world. How did you get back?

Rose: I'll explain later. Right now, I want you to tell me what you've done with the Doctor! And who that girl is! And why she's prettier than me!

Pretty girl: _This _is Rose? Oh dear. Now we're all in trouble.

Unfamiliar man in tweed jacket: Rose… I'm the Doctor. I regenerated. And this is Amy Pond, my new companion.

Rose: _(tries to make doe eyes, resulting in her looking like a startled gazelle) _But… but I thought you loved _me_. You were supposed to mope around the TARDIS, never being truly happy until I returned!

Amy: _(in a kindly tone)_ Sorry, Rose, I think you've got us mixed up with 'Torchwood'. This is 'Doctor Who' - we mope for five minutes then go back to our manic former selves.

The Doctor: Rose, I left you in that world for a reason.

Rose: So the fangirls would have something to complain about?

The Doctor: No, it's because you've been here so long you're getting annoying. You're worse than the Daleks - at most, they're in two episodes a season. But you… _(he thinks hard)_ I know just the place for you.

_A SHORT TARDIS TRIP LATER…_

The Doctor: This is your stop. _(he shoves Rose out of the door)_

Rose: Hey! _(the TARDIS disappears. She turns around to inspect her surroundings) _Oh, no…

_(ten rows, each with twenty computers, are populated by two hundred girls. They pause in their typing every so often to check the glowing Exclamation Mark Meter at the opposite end of the room. The figure reads '10,981 today', and grows by ten every fifteen seconds. The girls stop typing and turn towards Rose…_

_Who is suddenly buried under a pile of fangirls.)_


	114. Motherhood

A prompt from the infamous xAngelus's Darlax, taking place during the SJA story 'Enemy of the Bane'. If it doesn't slot in directly, then I'm sure you can twist things so it does. Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey...

Disclaimer: Of course I own it! It's all mine, and... we're not talking about the same thing, are we?

* * *

114 - Motherhood

Mrs. Wormwood stood serenely in the middle of Sarah Jane's attic, untroubled by the containment field. Sarah Jane faced her squarely, itching to sit down but balking at the idea of looking up to the other woman. It was clear that neither one was taking any prisoners.

"He's not your son, you know."

Sarah Jane looked shocked for a second, then managed to compose herself. "Of course he is."

"Oh, no." Mrs. Wormwood was just about veering on the wrong side of haughty and she knew it. "I created him, I nurtured him. I am the reason he exists."

"And what about me?" Sarah Jane countered. "I raised him, clothed him, fed him. I was there when he had nightmares, and on his first day of school. Everything he is, every way he's grown, I was the one right there with him. You barely know his name."

"I know _everything_ about him. I know his limits, his capabilities. Do you honestly think you could give him a proper life on this planet, where he has to hide everything he can do? Yes, you raised him, but that merely makes you a teacher. Letting him explore his full potential, guiding him along the way, that's what makes a mother. That's what I can give him."

"And what have you shown him so far? How to hurt people? How to run away? You may say that you've come back to help, but don't think for a minute that I believe you. And don't assume he does, either."

"I _am_ his mother," Mrs. Wormwood stated calmly. "And eventually, he will realise that. Maybe not today, maybe not even during this little adventure. But one day."

Sarah Jane's face twisted oddly, denial etched in every line. But underneath it all fear was just discernable. Fear that Mrs. Wormwood took great delight in exposing.

"See?" she crowed. "You know I'm right. And when it finally happens, you'll be begging me for just a few seconds to say goodbye before he walks away without another glance.

Sarah Jane opened her mouth to reply, the fear now blatant on her face, but she was interrupted by a shout from downstairs.

"Mum?"

"Up in the attic," the two women said at the same time, Sarah Jane scowling and Mrs. Wormwood smiling sweetly. They heard the pounding of footsteps on the stairs, and for a second it seemed like no-one in the room was breathing.

Then-

"Mum!" Luke walked into the room.

And went straight to Sarah Jane.

Mrs. Wormwood pursed her lips, obviously displeased at this turn of events. But Sarah Jane just smiled, and closed her eyes as she wrapped her arms around her son.


	115. Echoes

No update tomorrow, people - more of that pesky university stuff, I'm afraid. See you on Saturday.

This is a strange little one, companion to 'Voice' (C33) and 'Substitute' (C108). But if you can't remember them, go back _after_ you've read this one, OK?

Disclaimer: It's on my Christmas list. I'm hoping to sneak it away when the Grand Moff's back is turned.

* * *

115 - Echoes

The Doctor doesn't do things without thinking anymore.

Martha imagines that if she hadn't known him for so long, she wouldn't have noticed. But one of the things she had always found remarkable was the way he could pilot the TARDIS, make a cup of tea, even fix her broken hairdryer, all while concentrating on a mile-a-minute conversation. And now that it's stopped, she misses it.

It was a gradual process, she had noticed, starting with that strange incident with the tea. He had made it the way he always did, chattering about their next destination whilst waltzing about the kitchen, but when he sat down and they both took a sip, they'd grimaced in unison. Too much milk in Martha's, too little sugar in his. He'd frowned slightly too knowingly for Martha's liking, but just as she'd realised that the tea seemed awfully familiar, the Doctor had whisked it away and started on another set - this time, without saying a word.

The next incident was a TARDIS misadventure. He had been tinkering with the kettle whilst flipping switches, and as soon as they landed they had rushed out of the door. But Martha had recognised the hills and fields outside, and she'd just caught a glimpse of a scarecrow before the Doctor grabbed her hand and pulled her back inside, muttering about 'co-ordinate trajectories'. She'd caught the hint, and they had dematerialised in silence.

And so it had continued, a little more each day. Now, everything he does is a great effort and the TARDIS corridors sing with the silence.

But this - this is the final straw. She steps quietly into the library to find him pulling books from the shelves almost at random, flicking through a few pages and then tossing them aside to begin again. One hand is running almost constantly through his hair, making it messier than ever, and every few seconds his eyes dart to the mirror on the opposite wall as if he's trying to reassure himself that his own face is still staring back at him.

Martha crosses the room in three strides, tugs the book out of one hand, and catches the other to hold it still. "What-"

But she stops at the expression on his face. Because she knows that look, knows it like the back of her hand, and understanding rushes through her like a river through a broken dam. She knows why he doesn't talk any more, she knows where the TARDIS landed that day, she knows whose half-remembered tea she was drinking…

Because it's not the Doctor looking at her right now.

It's John Smith.


	116. Lachrymose

Before I forget, thank you to James Birdsong for the reviews. Obviously, thank you to everyone else too, but I can write review replies to you lot.

This is from a prompt by the ubiquitous Derek Metaltron. Not a happy one, people.

Disclaimer: I invented the planet. Sort of.

* * *

116 - Lachrymose

Rose and Jack spilled out from the TARDIS doors, laughing about something or other - and then stopped. Identical expressions of shock had arrested their faces, making any sort of movement or speech impossible.

A smug smile spread over the Doctor's face as he pulled the TARDIS doors closed behind him. He swung an arm over each of his companion's backs, then quietly said "Welcome to Women Wept."

They were stood on a flat, glassy plane which appeared to drop away completely about six feet in front of them. From there, they could see a large valley covered entirely in glaciers, some of them forty feet in height. There was no part of the surface below that was smooth, save the very tops of the glaciers. Strangely, the light was blocked as it travelled through the ice by dark shapes dotted here and there.

Rose wandered out to the edge, peering over it nervously. "What happened? Are there any people here?"

Jack shifted uncomfortably as the Doctor answered. "There was an ice storm. Froze the whole place over instant- Rose!"

For she had turned to run past them, down the glacier they were standing on. They both moved to follow her, but before they could reach her, she slipped and went sliding down the slope on her back. She collided with another wall of ice a little further down.

"Rose, are you-"

But even as they caught up with her, she was already on her feet and racing towards one of the largest glaciers they had been able to see from the top. She came skidding to a halt in front of it, slipping down again, but this time she made no move to get up. She simply stared.

Inside the glacier, distorted by the ice, was a blonde boy of about six. He was suspended slightly above the ground, looking almost like he was running. A little way back, a woman - presumably his mother - was reaching for him, the panic on her face twisted through the transparent ice.

"What happened to them?"

The question was so quiet the Doctor almost missed it. Both Rose's face and voice were unreadable, but he sat close behind her and pulled her back against his chest. His arms moved round her as Jack sat down on their right and took one of her hands in his.

"Like I said, an ice storm. The waves came down from the river off to the west, then they froze. Happened straight away, one after the other. No-one would've known what was going on."

"That's horrible," whispered Jack.

The Doctor shrugged slightly, still holding Rose tightly. "Is it? If it had been you, what would you have wanted? To know that it was coming, to be drowning and know that these were your last few seconds, and you were going to waste them trying to stay afloat when you're going to die anyway?"

"How many?" Rose cut in.

"No-one knows. Fifty, sixty thousand? This isn't when I meant to arrive. I was going to take you to the next ice storm, about three million years from now. The people there, they were prepared. They live on top of the glaciers."

Rose twisted in his arms to look at him. "Can we go there, please?"

He glanced at Jack. The other man swiped at the side of his face hidden from view, and the Doctor could have sworn he saw a tear clinging resolutely to Jack's hand.

"Yeah. We can go there."

Ten minutes later, they were three million years in the future. And this time, the light shone through the glaciers unhindered.


	117. Trilogy

Derek Metaltron asked, I answered. I actually liked the Master trilogy, but they're such easy targets. Wow, isn't that title clever and subtle?

Disclaimer: I own the right to make fun of these episodes.

* * *

117 - Trilogy

_SO…_

_WHEN WE LAST LEFT THEM, OUR INTREPID HEROES HAD JUST SPENT A GOOD FORTY MINUTES RUNNING AROUND FOR NO APPARENT REASON, SO THAT THE THESPIAN GUEST STAR GOT TO ACT A BIT CRAZY BEFORE CHANGING INTO THAT BLOKE FROM 'LIFE ON MARS'._

_WE REJOIN THEM ON A STREET. _

Doctor: The Master has a _wife_? I always thought he was gay! The beard, the outfits, the general campness…

Martha: Let's go to my flat. I have a laptop there that will provide at least half of the exposition we need, as well as catering for the random celebrity appearances we need.

Jack: We _need_ McFly? Really?

_HALF AN HOUR'S EXPOSITION LATER…_

The Mill: There hasn't been nearly enough CGI in this episode. I know! Let's make the real explosion look fake!

Doctor: I'm not entirely sure how to cope with the Master being normal. Let's go and ask him!

Martha: OK… but only because I love you so much.

Jack: You too? Join the club. So far, we have two hundred members on this planet alone. Most of them are brunette.

Martha: Brunette? Why?

Jack: He likes the blondes. Rose, Reinette, Lynda-with-a-y… If it's not bottle blonde, you don't stand a chance.

_MEANWHILE, ON BOARD SKYBASE…_

Master: Aha! Doctor, I have you surrounded, you've lost your pretty-boy looks, and my wife is blonder and hotter than Rose ever was! And… oh yeah, the Earth is doomed.

Doctor: Martha! Come here so I can whisper the plot of the next episode in your ear!

Martha: There's a _plot_?

_END OF 'THE SOUND OF DRUMS'. CUE RANDOM DANCE MUSIC, CHOSEN SOLELY BECAUSE IT HAS THE WORD 'DRUMS' IN IT._

_BEGIN 'LAST OF THE TIME LORDS'. BUT WAIT… MESSAGE FROM RTD_.

Russell T. Davies: I'm not good with writing myself out of post-apocalyptic corners. So to make sure there's adequate time for me to set up a reset button, why don't we skip forward a year?

People trying to solve the U.N.I.T. dating controversy: So, we skipped forward a year in 'Aliens Of London', but 'The Runaway Bride' is set in 2006... Is it? And now we've added an extra year, but that'll be reversed. And Jackie was a teenager when she had Rose, but she clearly wasn't… MY HEAD HURTS.

_MEANWHILE, BACK WHERE THE PLOT IS SUPPOSEDLY TAKING PLACE_…

Martha: Hot Doctor, I need you to take me to a woman who will sell me out, so that I can tell a story about how much I love the old wrinkly guy before getting on board Skybase. Oh, and if you could die in the process, that would be great.

Hot Doctor: Want to go out with me after I'm resurrected?

Martha: If it'll get me out of Torchwood, I'd date a Dalek.

_UP ON SKYBASE_…

Master: You know, I don't think 'wrinkly' is cutting it any more. So, as a punishment for trying to escape _again_, and doing it the same way you have every Tuesday for the past year, I'm going to make you small and stick you in a birdcage.

Old Doctor: Sounds good to me! Can you have the slaves whip me up a mini-suit?

Master: I'm sure we can get one off the action figure.

_AND WITH THAT, THE DOCTOR IS MADE SMALL. HE NOW RESEMBLES GOLLUM. OR DOBBY. SO LET'S CALL HIM… GOBBY._

Martha: Honey, I'm home! And I've got a gun!

Master: I pity the fool who tries to shoot me. _(takes gun off her)_ Wait… why are you laughing?

Martha: I don't know how to shoot. _(addresses the world)_ Hey, everyone, if you clap hard enough Tinkerbelle won't die! I mean… if you pray, Jesus will… oh, botheration. Just run the light show, already.

Gobby: _(turning back into Normal!Doctor in a crucifixion pose) _See? Who says mob psychology is a bad thing? And yes, Master, I know you still have an army of Toclafane. But you see, I'm pretty again, so I can beat you. Jack, go and shoot the Deus Ex Machine, will you?

Jack: But before you said I couldn't-

Doctor: Just go!

Jack: OK! _(shoots machine and makes everything better)_

Doctor: Yay! Now I'm not the last Time Lord, we can-

_BANG_.

Doctor: Oh. Damn. Bad Lucy.

_WE SEE A BURNING PYRE. WE PRESUME THIS IS SOME KIND OF GALLFREYAN RITUAL, ALTHOUGH IT COULD JUST BE THAT NO-ONE COULD FIND A BURIAL SITE THAT DIDN'T SPIT THE MASTER RIGHT BACK OUT OF THE GROUND._

_THEN, BACK TO CARDIFF…_

Jack: I know I abandoned my team, but I'm going to go back to them. After all, I'm the star of my own show and the two Welsh ones are kinda hot. By the way, at some point in the future, I'm going to be a massive head.

Martha: But your ego is so big already.

Jack: _Be_ a massive head, not _have_ a massive head. I'm the Face of Boe, for no apparent reason other than to confuse people.

Doctor: Eh?

Jack: See? It worked. Bye!

_AT SOME HOUSE THAT HAS MARTHA'S FAMILY IN IT… (MAYBE THEIR OWN HOUSE. THEN AGAIN, MAYBE THEY'VE BECOME SQUATTERS)._

Martha: I'm leaving. Hot Doctor has agreed to help me escape from Torchwood.

Doctor: But you'll be back, right?

Martha: Hell, yeah! Loads of 'guest' appearances and a steady pay check? Count me in.

_AT THIS POINT, MARTHA LAUNCHES INTO A CONVOLUTED METAPHOR WHICH WE ASSUME IS HER EXPLAINING HER LOVE FOR THE DOCTOR.. UNFOTUNATELY, IT'S INCOMPREHENSIBLE SO WE CAN'T PARODY IT_. _STILL, THEN SHE WALKS OUT, SO AT LEAST THAT BIT'S OVER._

_THE TITANIC SMASHES THROUGH THE SIDE OF THE TARDIS._

Titanic: What? WHAT? _WHAT?_

Audience: Oh, dear. Still, could be worse. At least Kylie hasn't started to sing yet…


	118. Admission

If you hate the angst, blame xAngelus's Darlax (it was her prompt). If you love the angst, I'm happy to take the credit. This could be seen as a follow-up to 'Forest' (C17) and 'Instruction' (C70).

I think this chapter deserves another dedication: to moonchild94, who has performed an astounding feat of bravery and read through all 117 chapters in a very short space of time. I salute you, and welcome to the family.

Disclaimer: No-one knows anything about River. I therefore own her entire life.

* * *

118 - Admission

"Who's Donna?"

The question came so unexpectedly that the Doctor nearly dropped his sonic screwdriver. He poked his head out from under the TARDIS console, and stared enquiringly up at River. "What?"

She sat down on the floor beside him, her left hand reaching out to ruffle his hair playfully while she clutched a blue-bound book in her right. "Who's Donna?"

The Doctor blinked at her, stunned for a second, then his face completely closed off. He snatched the book out of River's hand and clutched it to his chest, disappearing back under the console. "No-"

But a crack in his voice stole the rest of the word.

River took his free hand, and gently tugged him out again to face her. He resisted for a moment, then seemed to admit defeat and sat facing her. She smiled gently. "But she's not 'no-one', is she? You've always got this book on you, all the time. Don't look at me like that," -for he had opened his mouth to protest- "I've seen you sneaking it out to read when you think nobody's looking."

At this, he looked down at the book in his hand and sighed. Then he looked directly at River.

It was terrifying.

She had always got the sense that he was keeping his guard up. Not like he didn't trust her - he'd proved that on several occasions - but as if he was afraid to let himself feel something. Now, with the look in his eyes, she could see why. So much fear and pain and _guilt_, swirling around in the depths of his mind, and she finally understood why so many people whispered his name in awe. _This_ was the Oncoming Storm, this was the man who had lost everything, and he was clutching that little blue book like it was the only thing keeping him breathing.

Then just as quickly as it had arrived, the look had gone. In its place was a curious emptiness as the Doctor's features tried and failed to rearrange themselves in a way that didn't look broken.

"It's her diary," he said suddenly, his voice low but steady. "After she… I found a room. They all kept diaries." A bitter laugh. "They wrote it all down, every single one of them, and I never knew."

River placed one of her hands over his. "Why her, then?"

He knew what she was asking, and took his time considering how to answer. "Because she made me better," he said finally. "Because no matter how stupid I was being, no matter how self-pitying I was, she never let me get away with it. And she was brilliant."

He smiled at River, a smile she'd never seen before. "That's why I read the diary. Because that way, she's still with me. Still calling me Spaceman, and telling me that the world doesn't revolve around me, and she can't because I took it all away and now she's gone and she-"

River put the book down on one side and gathered him up in her arms as the words were lost in his tears. And for the first time in a very long while, the Doctor let out everything he had been bottling up.

They sat there for almost an hour, him quietly sobbing into her shoulder as she stroked his back absent-mindedly. Then, as he finally stopped shaking, he pulled away slightly and looked up at her. The look on his face was almost child-like as he asked "Can I tell you about her?"

River pulled him around slightly so they were leaning against the console, then nodded slightly. He sighed with relief, then laid his head in her lap. And as her fingers automatically stroked through his hair, he began to speak.

"I met Donna at Christmas, on her wedding day…"


	119. Riddle

Short one today, a little abstract 'guess-the-answer' (my chapter titles get more imaginative by the day, no?). xAngelus's Darlax should find this one easy; it came from one of her prompts!

Disclaimer: I am the Queen of Obscurity. Don't try to deny it.

* * *

119 - Riddle

We twist and bend.

Some of us are wrapped together, bound tightly in knots until we break. Others are entirely separate, brushing once, twice in a lifetime.

We do not end together, nor are we disconnected. Some fray at the ends, worn weary with length and age. Then there are those who are snapped from their bindings; those are the ones that are broken before their time, cut cleanly away at the edges.

But there are those that would unravel us. Those who would take each fragile strand, pull it out straight and curl it to fit their own design. We cannot change this new pattern; we can only cling to the remnants of the old and hope that things will settle.

A small curl there, a tangled web here. You cannot see us, although we rule your lives with glittering threads and loops and spirals.

So if you cannot see us…

Can you know what we are?


	120. Resuming

Another of xAngelus's Darlax's prompts today. Written because we're placing all our faith in Moffat with no idea what he's going to do.

Disclaimer: I'm too tired to be witty. Just know that if it was mine, I'd probably be working less.

* * *

120 - Resuming

"So… explain it again?"

The Doctor sighed exasperatedly at his newest companion. One hand fiddled absent-mindedly with his bowtie as the other twirled the new sonic screwdriver around, trying to find the 'on' switch.

"I travel around time and space in my ship-"

"The TARDIS."

"-the TARDIS, yes. Save some planets, do some running, see the sights of the Universe inbetween. And I'm asking you if you'd like to come with me."

"But… _why_ do you travel?" the girl looked as confused as it was possible for her species to look. "Surely that just makes you unsettled?"

The Doctor closed his eyes and tried to refrain from banging his head repeatedly on the TARDIS door. He had known at the time it was a bad idea to ask a Bravoxian onboard, but he couldn't help himself. They had no concept of any emotion other than broad sweeping statements like 'happy' and 'scared'. _Perfect_, he had thought. _They understand friendship, but there's nothing deeper than that to get in the way._ No emotional attachment, which was exactly what he needed. And they had the ability to heal themselves, which meant they wouldn't get hurt. Not like-

_-don't think about them, don't think about her_-

-humans. But now he'd found one, an intelligent girl called Creve who had just saved his life, he was starting to wonder why he'd bothered. They couldn't comprehend excitement, so they didn't get the point of travelling.

Creve opened her mouth again and, sensing that another technical question on the nature of travel was about to be asked, he finally gave in. "OK, Creve, it was just a thought. You can go back home if you want."

She almost skipped away.

He walked inside the TARDIS, tossed aside the sonic screwdriver, and set a course for Earth. _That's it. I've tried everywhere else, and the Universe is just not helping. All I need is one person who gets it. Just one._

The TARDIS stopped moving and, straightening his new tweed jacket, the Doctor walked outside. He was immediately crashed into by a ginger head.

"Oh, sorry," the ginger head hissed, not sounding very sorry at all. It moved back to reveal a young woman with an arm full of books. "If you don't mind…"

"Of course," replied the Doctor, moving out of her way whilst surreptitiously eyeing the books in her hands. _UFOs of the Twenty-First Century_, _Giant Lizards - The Facts_, and _An Idiot's Guide to Hunting_? He was intrigued. "Let me take those for you."

"I'd really rather-" she began, but he'd already scooped up the books.

"So, where are you going?"

She huffed, then set off at an alarming pace. "Archaeology department of the Museum. Problem with one of the exhibits."

"I'm good with problems. What kind of problem?"

She glanced at him suspiciously. "Yesterday they were plastic models. Now they're alive and scaring the visitors."

The Doctor couldn't stop the grin that spread over his face. "What was your name, sorry?"

"Amy," she said warily. "Amy Pond."

The Doctor contemplated this silently, then decided that the Universe had thrown this opportunity in his path and he was going to damn well take it. "Nice to meet you, Amy Pond. So tell me… how do you feel about travelling?"


	121. Therapy

I'm afraid there's no update tomorrow, people. Sorry. I'll be back on Saturday.

This is from a prompt by - who else? - xAngelus's Darlax. A different take on something I've _kind_ of done before. Only not. On another note, this is as good a chapter as any to dedicate to the lovely Was'up, who has been with me since Chapter 5. Thanks for sticking with me, hun.

Disclaimer: _My_ therapist. And judging by the state of my mental health at the moment, I need him.

* * *

121 - Therapy

So:

You lost yourself in the War.

That's good. You remember the War. It's a start. Anything else?

Oh, come on. You can do better than that. You were always so logical, so matter-of-fact. You should be able to try _something_.

There's no need to take that tone of voice. I know you're having problems, but that's no excuse. Speaking of which, I wanted to have a word with you about your little _experiments_. We know you're… you _used_ to be a scientist, but we do _not_ tolerate that kind of behaviour at Thorndale Psychiatric. At best it's irresponsible; at worst, animal cruelty.

You what? You're testing your new invention? Whatever for?

Oh, the _Doctor_! You remember the Doctor. See, just give it time and a little patience, and everything will come back to you.

Help? You mean, verbal cues, that sort of thing? Well then, let's start with the basics. What about the name you gave us when you were first brought in?

Does 'The Rani' mean anything to you?


	122. Uniform

The Queen of Obscurity will now be holding court. Any questions? Plenty. Any answers? Well... decide for yourselves. Remember - everything may or may not be significant.

Disclaimer: I think _QoO_ just about covers my ownership for now.

* * *

122 - Uniform

She dreams far too much.

She used to be a light sleeper. Nothing would get past her; the slightest noise and she'd be up in a flash. And she never, never, ever had dreams.

But ever since her 'accident', when part of her mind wandered off by itself and even now refuses to come home, she's been dead to the world every time she closes her eyes. And the _dreams_, the endless picture shows behind her eyelids, they leave her entirely without rest. And always the same.

She sees a man, taller than her and wiry with it. She steps closer to him, reaching forward to take his outstretched hand in hers. He grabs it suddenly and pulls her in to him, cradling her in his arms. But when she looks up to see his face, a brilliant light appears from nowhere and she can no longer see anything more than a faint silhouette.

Then the picture changes and she's in a square room. No doors, no windows, and a single pale light bulb to dimly illuminate the sparse beige walls. Out of nowhere, a film starts to play on the wall facing her - but the images are disconnected, jarring from one to another. An icy bridge, a massive greenhouse, a white room and rhinos. The images grow smaller with each flicker, almost like they are being pulled back into the wall. Then they are gone, and she is alone.

One of the walls disappears, the light bulb glows brighter, and she finds herself facing lines and lines of unfamiliar people, different faces and styles of clothing. Nothing connects them, apart from the fact that they are strangers to her. Then a blonde girl near the front meets her eye, and she is overwhelmed by the sensation that every one of these people belongs with the man she saw before - almost like they fit together. And maybe, just maybe, she is one of them.

But now she's looking closer, she sees more similarity. Almost as if these people are exactly the same, just with different faces. Not the same person, but the same… entity. Each of them fills the same role.

Without warning, they start to march. They sidestep round her, never breaking pace, and disappear into the wall behind her. They move in exactly the same way, holding themselves stiffly like robots, and she hears a voice that seems to surround her. It undeniably belongs to the man, but spit's the words out with a venom that somehow feels unfamiliar. _They were replaceable. Every one of them, transitory stopgaps until the next distraction. Every one a temp._

And the last word rings in her ears, filling her head and splitting it inside out as she fights to keep control of her own mind, and the comforting feeling of arms unexpectedly holding her up does nothing to dissolve the pain in her head that is building, and she's crying out, make it stop, make it _stop…_

And then she wakes up, and she doesn't understand why today feels different when even in her dreams, today is so obviously the same as yesterday.


	123. Justification

Coincidence alert: chapter 123 is (indirectly) about the 456. Prompted by moonchild94, have this offering; my second stab at RPF and my own take on 'Children Of Earth'. All for under 600 words - bargain!

Disclaimer: I may have said this before, but claiming ownership of real people counts as slavery.

* * *

123 - Justification

Mutiny was occurring at the Upper Boat Studios.

"What the _hell_ were you thinking?" John Barrowman brandished a script at his executive producer. "Did you even _think_ about Gareth?"

Eve Myles laid a hand on his arm, visibly upset but holding it in. "John, just let him explain."

She eyed the offending man distrustfully. "That was your cue to start explaining. Also, Jack murdering a child? What the hell?"

Russell T. Davies sighed heavily. He'd known the Torchwood cast - and crew - would be unhappy about the planned events of 'Children Of Earth', but he hadn't expected his two leads to come storming into his office, one restraining both the other and, from the look of things, herself.

"Because it's true to the characters."

John and Eve jumped at the new voice, then turned to see Gareth David-Lloyd leaning against the doorframe. Russell met his eyes and smiled, grateful that one of them, at least, understood. "Exactly."

Eve narrowed her eyes. "I don't follow."

"Then think of it this way," Russell continued. "Say Naoko and Burn were still here. It would change the story entirely. Toshiko would trace the signal back to the ship, or Jack and Ianto would never have spoken to that doctor in the first place. You put _those_ people in _that_ situation, they could only react one way. Jack, Gwen and Ianto have been defined already. Now, as a writer, all I can change are the variables."

"So add a supporting character. Or re-write the part about the virus." John looked confused as to why this would cause a problem, but the look on Eve's face said she was starting to understand.

"That's not how it works, John," she said gently. "You can't just change the whole thing because you don't like how it goes. If we made drama just because it was what people liked, we'd never get anywhere."

John seemed unconvinced as he turned to Gareth. "And you're OK with this?"

Gareth shrugged. "I wasn't at first. But I get it now."

"And the stuff about the kid?" It was clear he wasn't quite willing to let go of this yet.

"Same principle. That _is_ how the 456 would be dealt with if they were real."

John swallowed hard, then nodded. "Alright. I can accept that. But isn't it rather… disturbing?"

"Yes, it is." Russell answered immediately and certainly, to the great surprise of everyone in the room. "But that's the _point_. Good drama makes you uncomfortable. It makes you think. That scene where they talk about school league tables, that's exactly what would happen in real life. And if someone sits through it indifferently, we haven't done our jobs."

"In other words, it's not about what we want it to say. It's about what it says to us," Eve clarified.

John nodded slightly and left the room. Eve gave an apologetic look to Gareth, then followed him.

Gareth turned to Russell. "I could still hit you, you know."

"And you could still tell the press that you were fired unfairly, and say terrible things about your co-stars, and basically ruin the reputation of the whole production team. But you won't."

"No, I won't," he agreed. "Because it's a story that needs to be told."

He moved to the door and almost missed Russell's quiet words. "And that's all we are, in the end. Storytellers."


	124. Cobblers

An extremely random piece from an extremely random conversation with sunflowerb, who also takes credit for one of the lines in this.

Disclaimer: I think Converse owns them.

* * *

124 - Cobblers

Right then. Introductions. We all know who you are. But us?

We are the Doctor's shoes.

Yes, you did hear right. We are his shoes, and we are talking to you. We haven't got much of a view, looking as we always are at the world from the floor, but we do have many stories to tell.

I suppose you never really considered us, though. Or if you did, it was in more of an 'oh, look, the madman is wearing a suit with trainers. Next thing you know, he'll be claiming aliens are real' sort of way.

But did you think about the time we were filled with radiation on the moon? Or all of that running? Of course, we're just waiting for someone to figure out that the best way to stop a Dalek is to cover its eyestalk with one of us…

Unfortunately you could only defeat a maximum of two Daleks, because then you would run out of feet. Oh, well. We tried.

The point is, you never stop to think. Somewhere in all that running around, shouting your head off and fending off monsters, you forget that sometimes the little things are what you remember the most.

This will be one of those things. Forget the beautiful sunrises, the unfathomable size of space, the paradoxical loop-the-loops of time; when you look back on your life, what you will remember is a conversation with an old pair of shoes.

Look for the little things, my dear. And try not to stand on people's feet.


	125. Narrative

Short and a little bit strange. Orignally, this and tomorrow's chapter were from a GeekyKeen prompt about the life of River Song, but that got ever-so-slightly lost. See, this is what happens when my fingers are allowed to think for themselves.

Disclaimer: Both this and C126 can be taken as sequels to 'Luminescence' (C13), which happily, I _do_ own.

* * *

125 - Narrative

Tell me a story.

Let it be a _true_ story. Tell me tales of archaeologists uncovering diamonds from the dust of ages; of lonely gods who walk among men but cannot join them.

Speak of adventures, of monsters beneath the bed. Let me hear about the childish woes that lurk behind the sofa, and the cares and worries that shape a weathered brow.

Begin in the middle, and finish with an end and a beginning. Then when you think the story has stopped, begin again in the middle.

Tell me tales of Libraries, and Songs, and long-buried whispers that change a single world and many Universes.

It need not be a fairytale. It need not end with happy-ever-after.

But let it start with once-upon-a-time.


	126. Deep

Two ficlets from one prompt - thus is my insanity. Thank you, GeekyKeen.

Disclaimer: I've used River _three_ times. Possibly four or five. That's more than Moffat, so I own her.

* * *

126 - Deep

I'm not going to cry.

I know I have a perfect right to, seeing as this is the end. And I know I should feel like this is wrong, when you don't recognise me and I don't know you. This you.

But the thing is, you've known all along. From the moment we met, when I caught you staring at me and wondered why, you've planned out my life in your mind, seen the end and the start and all the days inbetween. It's no wonder you treated me different to your other companions, because right from the beginning you _knew_ I was different.

I've tried to hate you for that, I really have. But I can't, because it's you, and I know how you wrestle with your demons.

So I'll make inferences to places you know nothing about, and hope that you remember enough to take me there in the first place. I'll take your place this one time because you always did it for me.

I know I have a perfect right to cry.

But it's you, and it's me, and it's us, so I'll smile instead.


	127. Love

Rather sweet little prompt from Was'up spawned this one. Remember the couple from 'Voyage of the Damned'? Well, here they are...

Disclaimer: The entire planet of Sto belongs to me. It's in the same solar system as the Chocolate Planet, don't you know.

* * *

127 - Love

They met in an evening class.

Foon had been struggling with her Robotics Programming for three weeks now, and the tutor wasn't helping matters. Quite how repeating things (loudly) she didn't understand was supposed to help, she didn't know. Anyway, she had finally worked up the courage to ask one of the others to help her.

"Erm, hello." _Yeah, great start, Foon_.

But to her surprise, he had introduced himself as Morvin and immediately set about explaining the programming systems in small-scale appliances.

A month later, she passed the Advanced Exam. With honours.

---

It took him four months to work up to asking her out.

The thing was, she had such a bubbly personality. Everyone loved Foon, she was the life and soul (and usually organiser) of every party, and he was just the quiet one who sat in the corner with his books.

But he'd had enough of being the quiet one, so he marched over to her and blurted it out. In front of everyone. Loudly.

She laughed, replaced the book in his hand with a drink, then asked him what had taken him so long.

---

He was petrified about asking her to marry him.

What if she said no? Foon had become the biggest part of his life; he didn't think he could survive without her.

But they worked on the milk market together every day, and one Tuesday he simply handed her a bottle with a note wrapped around it.

When he opened his front door the next morning, a milk bottle was sat on his doorstep. The note it came with bore a single word.

_Yes_.

---

Twenty years, they've been married, and Foon's just won a holiday.

_Best not to tell him about the bill, he'll only worry. I'll tell him when we get back._

So they pack and they set off for the Starship Titanic. Normal couple, nothing particularly special about them except each other.

"There it is, Foon!" Morvin whispers. "Isn't it amazing?"

She nods, and laughs at his enthusiasm. They take their bags from the taxi and board the spaceship.

They never let go of each other's hand.


	128. DeParting

Sorry about yesterday; RL reared its ugly head.

This was a long-ago prompt by Derek Metaltron, so blame him. It's also the last in the current series of 'MLNS-rescripts-Who', as I've now parodied all Who season finales, plus TW:CoE Day Five. But feel free to ask for another one, if a particular episode strikes you as ridiculous.

Disclaimer: Chris Eccleston doesn't even _want_ his season. Surely that must count for something?

* * *

128 - DeParting

_GAME SHOWS._

_I THINK THEY'RE FUNNY ENOUGH WITHOUT THE PARODY, SO LET'S SKIP TO THE BIT WHERE ROSE 'DIES'._

Rose: Pretend!GAK!

Doctor: NO! What will I do without a hot companion?

Jack: Er, I'm still here!

Doctor: You're not blonde. Go over there and threaten to start shooting people so we can be arrested, steal guns, and generally act badass for the next five minutes.

Jack: But… you're a pacifist.

Doctor: No, I'm the screwed up one. You're mixing me up with the cricketing one.

_LATER, AFTER GUNS HAVE BEEN AQUIRED…_

Doctor: _(throwing gun to Clueless!Man) _Here, have a gun. And while you're at it, go and kill some Daleks. If you can manage to die in the process, that would be great.

Clueless!Man: Can I bring my girlfriend?

Doctor: _(wearily)_ If you must. And take Jack with you.

Jack: Doctor! I've just been to check out the TARDIS, and even though I can't read Gallifreyan, she told me that Rose isn't dead!

Lynda-with-a-y: So… I can't be the new companion?

Doctor: Lynda, you're sweet. RTD doesn't vote for 'sweet'.

Daleks: _(collectively)_ AHEM. This foreshadowing's been going on for forty minutes, can we please get to our bit?

Doctor: Oh, if you insist… Rose?

Rose: Yes, Doctor?

Doctor: I'm going to land my spaceship on you.

_HE DOES SO._

Dalek Emperor: I'm a god! The first Dalek god!

Doctor: So long as the Daleks don't try to sing hymns, that's fine. By the way, you're going down.

_BACK ON THE ARTIST-FORMERLY-KNOWN-AS-SATELLITE-5_...

Doctor: Rose, there is a distinct possibility that we could all die. So if you don't mind, I'm going to technobabble you into submission and send you home.

Rose: So the choice is Mickey or death?

Doctor: _(suspiciously)_ Yes?

Rose: Death. Every time.

_LATER, AFTER ROSE HAS BEEN DRAGGED INTO THE TARDIS BY HER HAIR AND SENT HOME WITH A DVD…_

Jack: Doctor, why didn't you send me too?

Doctor: I need you to shoot uselessly at Daleks, die for no apparent reason, come back to life for eternity, and star in a spin-off in Cardiff so that eventually you can become a giant head that gives cryptic messages about my worst enemy.

Jack: Fair enough.

_HE DIES._

Dalek Emperor: Unfortunately, when my Dalek kids became half-human, they lost that tiny little skill called 'subtlety'. So… do _you _want to kill loads of people, or do you want to watch _us_ kill loads of people?

Doctor: You do it. That way, I can finally say 'it wasn't me' truthfully.

_BUT WAIT! THE TARDIS REAPPEARS…_

Doctor: ROSE! What are you doing here?

Super-Rose: Saving you, Big Ears.

Doctor: But… how-

Super-Rose: Mum went to see a guy about a truck so I could see a pretty light show that did an entirely different thing to what it did last episode. And now, I'm a goddess!

Doctor: So long as the Daleks don't try to sing hymns, that's fine.

Super-Rose: Daleks… die for all eternity throughout time and space… except for the ones I, in my infinite wisdom, choose to ignore for dramatic purposes.

Doctor: Such as?

Super-Rose: At least one 'Radio Times' cover every series.

Daleks: _(collectively)_ GAK!

Doctor: Rose… it's my last episode as Big Ears. Can I have a kiss- I mean, can I save your life?

Super-Rose: _(wearily)_ Oh, if you must.

_THEY KISS. FANGIRLS CHEER. LONG-TIME HOLDERS OF THE VIEW THAT THE DOCTOR IS ASEXUAL THROW THEIR CHRISTOPHER ECCLESTON ACTION FIGURES ONTO THE BONFIRE, JOINING THE 1996 TELEVISION MOVIE DVD. AND SOMEWHERE IN SCOTLAND, DAVID TENNANT SAYS 'IS IT MY TURN YET?'_

_IN THE TARDIS…_

Rose: Doctor, you're glowing!

Doctor: It could be because I sucked the poison-light out of you, which is killing me in about twenty seconds even though you had it in you for at least an hour. Or it could be that dodgy bit of sushi we had in Kyoto. Still, it tasted fantast- GAK!

_HE DOES A STRANGE VERSION OF 'YMCA' AND AQUIRES SOME HAIR._

Rose: What?!?!?

Doctor: Rose, it's still me, but better looking! And I just have one question for you…

Rose: _(VERY suspiciously) _Yes…?

Doctor: What the _hell_ was that 'Bad Wolf' stuff all about?

Rose: Er… erm… it was… er… oh look, a Christmas Special!


	129. Bones

xAngelus's Darlax doesn't half like making me work with her prompts. It took me ten minutes to come up with a title. (Although after that, Possessed!Fingers made a comeback and the ficlet wrote itself).

Disclaimer: I could say I owned it, but that would be negated by the fact that xAngelus's Darlax owns my soul.

* * *

129 - Bones

You…

You are…

You are awake.

This should surprise you, but it doesn't. Then again, what is surprise to you? Not even a word. Just a noise to copy and store away in that flickering stream of numbers you cannot yet call a mind.

But there are sparks, and loud noises tinged with terror, and that little survival instinct of ten thousand humans whispers _run_.

And so, before you can stop to consider exactly what this word _run_ means and how it could be enacted, your feet are pounding on the floor and you are moving at the speed of light away from where you were.

This burning in your chest, this halting of the in-and-out motions you haven't yet noticed, what is it? Why does it cause you to slow down? Something in your head crackles, and a wisp of never-known knowledge comes shivering across your consciousness. It whispers of _blood_ and _heart_ and _breath_, and you could have stayed in that one spot forever listening to the sound of someone else's mind inside this thing which you can now call a _skull_.

But then there is someone else in front of you, and you cast aside the thoughts of the constituent parts, because now there is someone from whom you can learn to think. You open your mouth and let her words spill out, and somewhere in that wavering mass of numbers, a word begins to form.

Though you do not know it yet, that word is _Maria_ and you will know her from birth until death.


	130. Wordless

Have you ever considered the bit-part characters from 'Parting of the Ways'? Was'up has. And because of that, this chapter is all about C128's Clueless!Man and his girlfriend. There's also a healthy dose of angst.

Disclaimer: There will soon be a new DW logo. After that, everything under the old logo is up for grabs.

* * *

130 - Wordless

He never asked for her name. Didn't want to hear her say no.

She never told him how to work the controls. She'd found that the best judge of a person's character was often how quickly they asked for help.

He never asked why the Games were hurting people. He figured it was one of those things that everyone knows, and he'd look stupid for asking.

She never enquired about his family. Personal relationships were best kept away from work, and she was entirely sure she didn't care. Much.

He never mentioned that scar on her back. He'd only seen it once, after she had been stretching to reach for some circuit or another, and it would have felt like an intrusion to talk about something she so obviously wanted hidden.

She never answered him when he made subtle references to the two of them going out for a drink sometime. It was understated enough that she could ignore it, and she wasn't quite ready to voice what she _maybe_, _possibly_, _might_ have been feeling.

He never pushed her when she avoided certain topics with him. Her job, her attitude, her day-to-day life were all fair game, but the personal stuff? That was out of bounds.

She never thanked him for that time he found her crying. He didn't say anything, just put his arm round her until the shaking stopped, then got her a coffee and left her to collect herself. She also didn't tell him that that was the moment she seriously started to consider that drink.

He never told her that the whole reason he was here, the reason he applied to the Game Station, was because he'd caught a glimpse of her on the job adverts and thought he recognised her.

Then…

Shoulder to shoulder, fighting an unknown enemy. Guns in hand, they caught one another's eye and all the secrets started to spill out. He told her how he ended up on the Station; she asked him out. And they stood together until the lights went dark.

They never did go for that drink.


	131. Borderline

OK, the first thing I have to do is apologise for the massive delay in updating. Unfortunately, my laptop broke down - in fact, I'm now powering it by a little hamster in a wheel. So if you don't hear from me for a few days now and then, that's probably the reason why.

Second: this is from a prompt by xAngelus's Darlax. Sorry about the delay, sweetie. I'll hopefully be getting back to regular updates now, and I haven't forgotten your other prompts.

Disclaimer: Of course not - Doctor Who does not disappear for large amounts of time. Wait...

* * *

131 - Borderline

"I'm in!" he raced through the door, waving the precious piece of paper triumphantly.

"That's wonderful, sweetheart," his mother replied, but the smile she gave never quite reached her eyes.

He sighed and raced up the stairs to put the paper in his room. Trust the Agency to use the most archaic system they could find for recruitment.

"_At the Time Agency, you need to be prepared for anything_," he mumbled, imitating his interviewer when he had asked the (valid, in his opinion) question "Why use something so flimsy and stupid?"

_Maybe I can change that one day, _he thought, and grinned as he crossed his room to look out of the window. Even his mother's hesitance couldn't dampen his joy at being the first Boeshinian to be accepted into the Time Agency.

He stood there for about an hour watching the sunset, and as day dipped behind the clouds into night, the smile slipped slightly on his face. _Wonder if Dad would be proud of me_.

But somehow, he knew the answer. He was doing this to find his brother, to have access to anywhere and anywhen and the power to make inquiries once he got there. His dad would have been full of pride.

He stood a little straighter as he remembered the words of the Agency Tutor who had given him the acceptance letter. "You've done well so far. Keep it up, and who knows? You could be the face of the Agency for the whole Boe Peninsula."

_The face of Boe_, he thought. _And no-one to stop me from searching._

_Hold on, little brother. I'm coming to get you._


	132. Departure

Today's fic is brought to you by xAngelus's DarlaxPromptsTM. Owen, and a couple of deaths too many.

Disclaimer: I do not own this disclaimer.

* * *

132 - Departure

_I._

What have you done, Jack? You know that Glove was supposed to stay lost. I appreciate the thought, but the whole Universe is a bit of a hefty price to pay for good-

Oh. Of course. You brought me back for the bloody code.

And the rest of you, my family, the people I shared my life with… you don't know what to say. It's alright, I understand. I'm a doctor, I know how hard it is to talk to someone you know might as well be dead.

Oh, Tosh, please don't say that. We missed our chance, you and I, that drink never happened and it won't. You don't need to pretend that you'll miss me when I was never yours to miss.

So, here we go. Back to nothingness. Watch where you put that scalpel, Martha - I'd like to go into the afterlife intact…

_II._

Oh. Not quite so dead after all, then.

But- what's the point? I'm still walking, still talking but if I can't feel then why am I here?

You knew what would happen, Jack. You knew that Glove was trouble, but you went and did it anyway. Selfish, really - remember Suzie? Terrible things happen to the immortals around you. You should really know better after a couple of centuries.

And Tosh, sweetheart, please don't waste your time. Holding my hand might make you feel better, but it won't do me a blind bit of good because I can't _feel_ it. You might as well be clutching air.

So… is this it? Every day the same, waiting for the thing that will finally render me useless? I've seen brittle bone disease in hospitals, seen people who daren't get out of bed for fear of breaking in half. It's like living in a glass house, one of them told me. Every time you move you're wondering, is this the one I'll drop? Is this the one that will smash into crystal shards and crack the floor?

I've seen panic attacks as well. I considered having one, but decided against it. The 'detachment from your surroundings' and 'fear of death' I could manage, but the 'shortness of breath' might be a bit more difficult.

_III._

So this is finally it then. Only it isn't, because I'll still be there. I bet you won't remember that, will you? Even you, Ianto, always so particular about the details, you won't remember that I'm still here. Watching myself waste away, feeling myself shut down, locked in a room that no-one can enter.

Will Torchwood go on? I think so. Torchwood always goes on. And then there's me, Cardiff's guardian angel, watching her from below. How long does it take for a radioactive man to disappear? Two months? I can keep her safe until then, at least.

Oh, my Toshiko. My beautiful Toshiko, please don't cry. It wasn't your fault; it was never your fault. It was the failings of a blind man, who never did see you. Well… not until now.

I know something's wrong. I can hear it in your voice. You never were a good actress, and you can't lie to the dead. We have no secrets.

But I'll pretend to believe you, because it's you, and you want me to. And I won't say I love you, because it's true and you shouldn't have to hear the truth when you're pinning everything you have on a lie.

So here we go. End of the line. Next stop, anywhere.

And you know what, Tosh? It's OK. Really.

It's OK.


	133. Circumstances

This, once again from an xAngelus's Darlax prompt, came out very differently to how I imagined. At first I was going for a Martha-meets-a-friend-in-a-resistance-camp sort of thing, but... Oh well. Possessed fingers take the lead again.

On another note, a big welcome to CountryGrl, who has just joined us and performed an amazing feat by getting through a multitude of chapters in less than a day. This is for you, and for all of my other reviewers (especially GeekyKeen, for sticking with me).

Disclaimer: I just made a speech worthy of an Academy-Award-winner. Surely I get _something_?

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133 - Circumstances

Always said that red hair would be your undoing.

It got you noticed, see. It doesn't do to be noticed by the Master. And now you're being taken up, up to the sky to live in the Valiant storm. Well, I say live. Who knows? He may declare you unworthy.

But now you're in. Maid's uniform freshly ironed, silver platter in one hand and the other one clenched. The pain stops you from acting rashly, makes your brain work before your mouth. A smart comment never got very far with _him_.

Wait- but that's… what?

He's _here_. You spent so long wondering where he was, if he thought of you and now he's here - you'd recognise that suit anywhere. And all you want to do is drop the dishes you're carrying and give him the hug of his life…

Oh, my…

Oh, but that's not fair. He half-turns towards you as you pass, like he almost recognised you, but you sweep on past because if you don't leave now that clenched hand will become a fist and you can't afford to hit the Master. But your blood boils in your veins, scalding you from the inside and filling your mind with the pain. Because how _dare_ he? How _dare_ the Master take the one thing you thought you could hold on to and make it… and make it…

Your sobs are silenced at all times, even as you sleep. The Master cannot know of your connection; must not even dream that there is one to be found. You've seen the witch hunts, carried the files containing great lists of 'known associates'. You keep out of his way, out of their way, because you _must _not be recognised.

The image burns itself onto your eyelids, thin white hair and skin as paper-thin as the hopes you once had.

So you watch and you wait. You hear the whispers of an immortal being, and go to investigate with a plate of food in one hand. You murmur your story as you feed him, tell him your tale of the man you used to know, and he tells you one in return. You return the next day, and the next, and the daily ritual becomes your comfort. For you, every story is another blow against the Master.

Perhaps the most surprising turn of events is a sudden friendship. The Master's Wife, a title many have deplored and craved, and yet somehow you become her confidante. She tells you of the pressure, of the need to be ever servile. She tells you of the guard who Resisted, of the story behind her battered black eye, and of what 'dear Harry' did to the man who caused it. She tells you everything, and trusts you above all others.

You store the information, filing it away in your brain for another day. Because that's who you are, really, isn't it? The office girl, the one who keeps the records and finds the information for the use of others. You yourself are a filing cabinet, all empty drawers and metal skin. But to keep your secrets out, or in?

And finally the day comes. The girl from the whispered promises, the Martha Jones of legend, is here at last. You stand and watch from the sidelines, bursting with pride that _your_ friend is the one who saved them all. You feel the startling stab of jealousy as he takes her hand and smiles, as the clock turns back a year to the day. It should have, would have, could have been you.

But it does not end there. The Master is still smirking and sneering; still dangerous. And although you admire the anyone-can-be-saved attitude that so differs from the cold man you met one Christmas morning, you can't help wondering if the man that killed so many deserves the life you turned down and so desperately want.

So you step up behind Lucy, where you cannot be seen, and you whisper the undoing words in her ear; the words she always suspected but never believed. Just four, but what power they have. Funny, that the difference between life and death would be four short words.

_He killed your father_.

The bullet finds its mark. He is heartbroken, but you can't bring yourself to guilt because something tells you he would be torn apart each day by caring for such an antithesis of himself. You consider going to him then, but decide to wait. The time for mourning does not sit well next to revelations.

Later, you contemplate going to find him. But by that time, the bitter taste of an amnesia pill has already flooded your mouth, and you can barely keep your eyes open. One for each of those who cannot be trusted, for those from whom the truth should be hidden. You wonder who decided, and how. Were all the staff treated the same? Was it _him_, who looked at your name on a list and failed to recognise it? You hope not.

And now it fades to black. You think before you go, _don't forget me_. You almost hear him say, _don't you forget me_.

You wake. There is a strange buzzing at the back of your mind, but you dismiss it along with the alarm clock that woke you. What were you doing yesterday? You can't remember. Drunk, you suppose.

There has to be more than this to life. Drink and work, this cannot possibly be all there is. That holiday in Egypt wasn't up to much, but… what else can you do?

Then a slight itch at the back of your mind. Something tells you… a suit. And an old, old man. But he was… young, wasn't he? Wasn't he?

Maybe you should find him. Just to check, see if your memory is alright. And maybe… maybe see if that offer still stands.

So you have a plan. And you have a reason to get up this morning.

Oh, Donna. If only you could remember the things you've seen.


	134. Equivocal

Anyone see SJA: The Wedding Of Sarah Jane? Good. You know that last conversation between Sarah and the Doctor? Well, everyone seems to think Sarah's line about forgetting was aimed at David Tennant's last hurrah. My brain, as is often the case, went in an entirely different direction. Warning: Severe Angst.

Disclaimer: I thought we'd been over this?

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134 - Equivocal

No-one's ever going to forget you, she says.

And he smiles because it's just like the first time she left, before everything got so complicated.

Then the doors close, and the TARDIS leaves Sarah's attic, and the pain that hits him is almost tangible.

_No-one's ever going to forget you_.

His knees buckle, and he's gasping for breath suddenly because it _hurts_, oh God, it hurts so much because she's not there and she's never coming back and his _Donna_…

He collapses entirely to the floor, his cheek pressed hard against the metal grating, and all he can think before he loses himself is that this is the very spot where he stole her life.

---

He comes back to himself a minute, year, second later and it hurts twice as much as before.

There are no tears (for how could simple drops of water ever be enough?), but that awful, shuddering, soul-tearing breathing continues. It barely belongs to him anymore - the pain has become a separate entity; a blanket that smothers the entire room.

He hauls himself up to sit back against the console, and the realisation comes like a clap of thunder. This is the first time he's allowed himself to _feel_ the pain, to invite it in and hold onto it so completely. He's thought about her, yes, he's even talked about her. But somehow he'd been holding on to the Donna of old and never quite grasped the full extent of what he had lost.

"_Some of them… forget me."_

"_I had this friend once… she called me Spaceman."_

How _dare_ Sarah? How _dare_ she drag this back up and make him feel things that he'd already dealt with, that he just wasn't ready for? And in that second, he hates her for reminding him, properly hates her right down to his bones.

Then the second passes, and he is left with the guilt. Guilt because it was never Sarah's fault; she (and he, at first) had just been sharing the memory of her own goodbye. Guilt because it had taken him a few seconds to fully comprehend the meaning of her words.

Above all, though, was the guilt that he had been able to speak of Donna so flippantly to others. It had taken him a full year to hear the name 'Rose' without flinching, and he was able to brush Donna off in conversation with utter strangers? Didn't she deserve more than a passing comment?

The answer to that last one had a very simple name. Denial. He knew the five stages of grief by heart, could tell you the scientific theory behind each one and a dozen different studies for and against. But until now, he'd never quite understood how powerful it could be, to simply say _this did not happen_.

As for the other stages - well, judging by the catch in his breath as he slowly recovers from the panic attack, he's got depression down to a fine art. Anger is covered as well - he only has to think of a Dalek and his blood will ice over, freezing his hearts and leaving the shattered shards in his chest. As for acceptance… it will never come to that, he promises himself. Donna deserves better than a simple _this is immutable_.

So what does that leave him with? The only stage left is the direct contradiction of what he knows. There is no way to save her; impossible, this time, is absolute.

Unless…

No. Absolutely not.

But what if…

If he could just…

Right, then. Bargaining it is.

"I'll get there, Donna," he whispers to the place she first appeared in that ridiculous wedding dress. "I'll fix it, I promise."

After all, no-one's ever going to forget the Doctor.


	135. Abridgement

I was going to apologise for the rubbishness of this chapter, but then I came up with an idea. A contest: read these, then come up with one of your own. Any DW, TW or SJA episode you like. Then stick one in a review/PM or something of the sort. I'll pick one and the winner gets... something. Pride and glory. I'll come up with a better prize if anyone enters. Happy summarising!

Disclaimer: Russell doesn't get other people to do his dirty work for him... oh, wait. Yes he does.

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135 - Abridgment

(or, Discarded Titles for Series One)

EPISODE 1: PRICE WAR

In which the Doctor acquires a large pair of ears, and Rose Tyler asks "Why do we travel through Time and Space? Because we want to! Because we want to!"

EPISODE 2: DISCO INFERNO

In which the Doctor tries to get rid of Rose by any means necessary (including burning and being hit over the head with a giant claw), and Rose discovers that her great-great-great-great-granddaughter used to be her great-great-great-great-grandson.

EPISODE 3: I GUESS THAT'S WHY THEY CALL IT THE BLUES

In which Rose gets knocked out - again - and the Doctor learns that Cardiff is actually the centre of the Universe.

EPISODE 4: ALIENS IN CARDIFF

In which Rose learns that time really does fly, and the Doctor discovers Blue Peter.

EPISODE 5: STAR WARS

In which the Doctor plays "Guess Who?" and the world's military security is placed in jeopardy by a terrorist attack from a man known only as 'Rickey the Idiot'.

EPISODE 6: STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

In which a Dalek overcomes its fear of heights and the Doctor proves that pacifism is a lot more difficult and a lot less fun than finding a gun and blowing your worst enemy's head off.

EPISODE 7: THE FORESHADOWING TITLE

In which nothing of any relevance happens, and the Doctor finally gets to utter the immortal words - "Adam… you're fired!"

EPISODE 8: DADDY COOL

In which Rose and the Doctor have their first fight ("I'm leaving you!" "I get the phone box!") and Pete decides that he'd rather throw himself under a car than listen to Jackie Tyler for one more minute.

EPISODE 9: THE ATTENTION-SEEKING INFANT

In which a toddler discovers a mechanical talent and Rose finds yet another boyfriend.

EPISODE 10: THE DOCTOR MAKES INNUENDOS

In which Bad Wolf goes international (well, German, anyway) and it is found that mother really does know best.

EPISODE 11: THE SYMPATHETIC SLITHEEN

In which Margaret takes the moral high ground, and Cardiff is threatened by the Tate Modern's latest crack-in-the-floor exhibit.

EPISODE 12: YES, WE CAN DO POP CULTURE

In which the obligatory celebrity cameos make their first appearance, and Rose is kidnapped so many times that even she loses count.

EPISODE 13: GOODBYE, CHRIS

In which the Daleks discover religion, and we all try to pretend that we didn't know about the regeneration scene.


	136. Eulogy

First, some housekeeping: no update tomorrow, people. Sorry - RL gets in the way again. But rest assured, I'm not disappearing for another month. (Not like last time...)

And... I have the most awesome reveiwers in the world. The response to yesterday's challenge was phenomenal, and I'm going to think long and hard about a winner. (Or I may just take the easy way out and choose one from each person. Then maybe let you lot choose.)

Now, the ficlet itself. From a prompt by sunflowerb, but as is now traditional, skewed a bit. I've tried writing for minor characters - now I'm going for one we never even saw on TV. Have fun!

Disclaimer: This character never properly existed. Therefore, I can claim sole ownership!

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136 - Eulogy

"Um… hello? This is Allegra. Zach, I hope you're listening to this… I'd really hate for my last words to get lost in transmission.

"First thing you need to know is that you're Captain now. I know you'll be protesting, but stop it. You'll be brilliant, if you give yourself a chance. Mr. Jefferson and Ida worship the ground you walk on, you know. They'd stand on burning coals for you. So step up, be a man, and do me proud.

"Second thing is the main reason I'm not telling you this is person. The Ood, they've… gone rabid or something. Red eyes, the lot of them. There's three outside the door now. They'll get through eventually, and then I'll… well, I won't be seeing you again. Just be wary of them, and try to figure out what the hell's going on with this planet.

"And… that's it. I've run out of things to say… My last message and I'm speechless. No jokes about 'That'll be a change', please, I'm still your superior officer.

"I never wanted to go on this mission, you know. I was so proud when I made Captain, and I thought it'd be full of shiny spaceships and whooshing doors. Kind of like those old vid-programmes… what was it? Star Wars? I never wanted a job on a dingy old sanctuary base with a crew of environmentalists. But hey - we almost saved the world. At least that's something.

"Oh… this is it. The Ood are coming through the door, and then that'll be the end of me. Tell the others… oh, I don't know. Make up something impressive about teamwork. And you, Zach - it's been a privilege to work with you. I'm proud to have been your Captain, even if it was for too short a time.

"They're almost through. Time to send this message. I hope you hear it before you find me, I wouldn't wish that shock on anyone.

"This is Captain Allegra Walker of Sanctuary Base Six, signing off.

"And Zach?

"…Thank you."


	137. Truths

This, people, is the longest ficlet yet. It's part of the Children of Wine!verse, containing (in chronological order) Interim (C61), Accordance (C71), Fifty (C50), Kiss (C55), and Goodbyes (C79). This fits in between Kiss and Goodbyes - I'm writing them entirely out of order. It will have a follow-up, possibly tomorrow or the day after.

Disclaimer: I own a 'verse. Yay!

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137 - Truths

"Um… Donna?"

Rose's head appeared round Donna's bedroom door. The rest of the TARDIS crew had long since staggered off to bed, and Donna was just about to turn in herself when a timid head had peeked into her room.

Donna sighed slightly. She didn't know why, but something about Rose grated on her and the last thing she wanted at this time of night was the 'Donna, you're his friend… does he love me?' conversation. Closing her eyes and mentally kicking herself for her inability to resist a pleading face, she manoeuvred herself into a sitting position on the bed and motioned with her head. Rose took the hint, and quietly sat beside her.

"Thanks for the hangover cure."

Donna smiled. "It was nothing. It's gonna be bad enough with that lot tomorrow, without you acting like a bear with a sore head. I've heard the stories, I know what you're like when you've been drinking. No, thank you."

"So…" Rose shifted uncomfortably. "He talked about me, then?"

_Aha_, thought Donna. _Now we get to the real reason behind this little chat._ Out loud, she simply said "Yeah. A bit."

Rose looked like she couldn't decide whether to be disappointed or happy. Donna decided to take pity on her.

"Look, he missed you like crazy and talked about you all the time. That's why Martha left in the first place, she couldn't stand always being compared to someone she'd never met."

A slight smugness crept over Rose's face, and Donna suddenly decided that maybe Rose Tyler wasn't quite the innocent princess the Doctor had described. The feeling was only confirmed at Rose's next words. "And you? Does he… compare you?"

Donna shook her head slightly. "It's completely different, me an' him."

At this, Rose looked confused and more than a little suspicious. "How? How is it different?"

Donna was silent for a moment, debating her answer. Go with the whole truth? Or let the Doctor make his own choices? Either way, she wasn't all that keen on letting Rose hear exactly what she was expecting to.

However, common sense prevailed. She refused to lie, and even if the Doctor was too stubborn to admit his feelings, he deserved to be happy. And like it or not, Rose Tyler made him happy.

She turned to Rose, looked her dead in the eye, and said "It's different because he's not in love with me."

Rose's eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline.

Donna chuckled. "Don't tell me you weren't expecting it. That run earlier, on the street, it was like something out of a film. He wouldn't do that for just anyone."

Rose just shook her head slightly. "He was devastated."

Donna frowned, wrong-footed. "What?"

"He was devastated. When he thought you'd died… I've never seen him so frantic. He offered to switch with you, you know?"

"Yeah, but he'd do that for anyone, that's just how he is."

Rose smiled knowingly. "Trust me. This wasn't a save-these-innocent-people deal - and I should know, I've seen him strike enough of those. This was more of a, please-God-no-anyone-but-her sort of thing. Laugh all you want-" for Donna has scoffed at this "- but I know what I saw."

She placed one hand on Donna's shoulder. "When I first met him, it was just after the War, and he was broken. I helped fix him, and he needed me for that.

"Then he… changed. Like he nearly did today, only this time it went all the way. New face, new personality, everything. And yeah, I still loved him - I probably always will. But him, _this_ him… he doesn't need me any more. He needs you."

And with those words, Donna saw a little bit of the girl the Doctor must once have known. She felt her respect for the other woman grow - and with it, the desire to give a fair warning.

"He's going to leave you. Back in that parallel world, with the DonnaDoctor."

Rose giggled slightly at the nickname, then her eyes grew wide as she realised what Donna had said. "But… but he can't! I came all this way to find him… so we could be together!"

Donna shook her head. "You don't understand. He's not doing it 'cause he doesn't want you. He's doing it because he _does_."

Rose's confusion was almost tangible.

Donna simply looked at her incredulously. How could this girl, the love of the Doctor's life, the woman who supposedly knew him better than any other, be so utterly _blind_? How could she not see what he was giving her?

"Rose, he wants you to have a life. He knows that one day, you're going to get older. One day, you're not going to be quick enough and he's going to lose you. He leaves you with the DonnaDoctor, problem solved. You get a normal life, you get the Doctor, and he gets to know that somewhere out there you're safe and happy."

"But… that's not what I want. I want _him_, and the TARDIS, and time and space. Just like it was before."

"Oh, is that it?" Donna suddenly snapped. She was _trying_ to be patient with Rose, who had been through so much today, but to be honest Rose's self-centred attitude had tested that resolve to breaking point. "You want to travel through time and space? Save the Universe, become a legend? You want to be praised? You've come to the wrong place, sweetheart. Everything he does is about other people, can't you under_stand_ that? He's giving you himself, a version of himself that needs help, and you're going to throw it back in his face?

Rose was frozen, her mouth half-gaping, but Donna was on a roll now.

"What about the DonnaDoctor? Have you ever considered that maybe _he _needs you? But no, you're too busy complaining because you want to play the hero while the man you love is giving up everything to make you happy. He doesn't _like _it. He isn't _happy _that he has to leave you behind. But he'll do it anyway, because that's what he does. He sacrifices everything for everyone else, and he always ends up alone."

"And you think you can change that?" Rose suddenly spat, her face contorted. "Is that why you're doing this? You want him all to yourself, don't you? Because you're scared that I might be what he wants, and you'll be left on your own."

CRACK!

The echo reverberated around the room as Donna lowered her hand and Rose clutched her cheek. They had twisted on the bed until they were facing each other, glaring with almost pressurised force. It felt as if something was building in the room, some tension that would erupt at any moment, until-

Donna slumped and the fight left her eyes. She turned away from Rose, and said in a quiet voice, "He's breaking his own heart for you. I just hope you're worth it."

"Hearts," corrected Rose in an equally small voice. Then two hushed words. "I'm sorry."

Donna turned back to look at her, wincing at the sight of Rose's reddened cheek. "Me too."

Rose laughed ruefully. "We're a right pair, aren't we? My mum'd have my head if she knew what I'd just said. Look… Donna, you're right. 'Course you are. I am being selfish."

"Can't blame you for wanting to be here forever. We've all been there. Some of us more than once."

"Yeah, but… I dunno. I've got no right. You're the one travelling with him at the moment. I'm just like… the ex- girlfriend."

"Ha! The missus and the ex. We'd run rings around him."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Then-

"Rose? Do me a favour. He didn't want you to know about… you know. So could you just… act surprised?"

"You mean, fake it? Protest a bit but ultimately give in?"

Donna glanced at her sheepishly. "Well… yeah. Kind of."

Rose giggled. "Yeah. Think I can manage that." She stood up and moved towards the door, stopping to turn in the doorframe. "Donna? Thank you. For everything."

Donna smiled gently. "Nice to meet you."

Rose raised her eyebrows, then lifted a hand pointedly to her discoloured cheek. The two women looked at each other levelly, then burst out laughing.

When they controlled themselves, Rose turned and walked out of the door. "See you in the morning!" she called over her shoulder.

Donna shook her head in disbelief. That had to have been the strangest conversation she'd ever had, even by the Doctor's standards. _Maybe Rose has got a point,_ she thought as she settled down to sleep. _Maybe that little chat was a good idea._

She soon drifted off, completely dead to the world and surrounded by the dizzying DoctorDonna images in her dreams.

Which was why she didn't notice the shadowy figure slipping into her room to watch her sleep. A shadowy figure who had been stood outside her door for the past fifteen minutes, and had heard every word of her and Rose's conversation.


	138. Accountable

The sequel to yesterday's ficlet. The shadowy figure is not at all who I originally intended it to be, which just goes to show that Possessed!Fingers are taking over.

Disclaimer: I have a feeling the entire Children of Wine!verse is original. Or at least, I don't remember stealing it.

* * *

138 - Accountable

Rose closed her bedroom door softly behind her and flopped down onto her bed. The exhausting - mentally and physically - conversation she'd just had with Donna had left her drained, and all she wanted to do was sleep.

Her brain, however, had other ideas.

_Donna thinks I'm selfish_, she thought. _Is that how everyone else sees me? Is that how the _Doctor _sees me? And how the hell am I going to pretend the whole 'leave-me-in-the-parallel-world' plan is a surprise?_

Her musings were halted by the sound of the door opening, and a shadowy figure entering. She squinted in the half-light, but could only see the silhouette until the figure sat on the floor by her head and whispered "Rose?"

"What are you doing here, Jack?" Rose replied. "I thought you were drunk."

Jack chuckled quietly. "Fifty-first century, remember? Drunk for us lasts about a half hour. Anyway, how's the cheek?"

Rose lifted one hand to the offended article, which was still throbbing with the force of Donna's (well-deserved, she had to concede) slap. "Sore. Donna's got one hell of a right hook- hang on, how did you know that?"

"Let's shed a little light on the subject, shall we?" he suggested, leaning over to switch on her beside light before settling back on the floor. "I was listening at the door. Needed to make sure you two wouldn't kill each other in a jealous rage."

"I'm not jealous of _Donna_!"

Jack smiled evenly. "Yeah. You are. Otherwise why were you so mad at the idea that she gets to stay with him forever?"

Even laying down, the slump of Rose's shoulders was visible as she admitted defeat. "OK. A little. It's just… the way he looked at her when she came out of the TARDIS, back on the Crucible? Everyone else was focused on her and the DonnaDoctor, but I was looking at him and he just… He looked at her like nothing else in the whole world mattered. And he used to look at me like that."

"Rose-"

"Just… just don't, Jack. It's alright."

Jack looked distinctly unhappy about leaving the topic. "I don't believe you."

Rose smile ruefully. "Neither do I. And I also don't believe that you came here to talk about my issues. So go on, out with it."

"I went in to see if Donna was sleeping-"

"Why?"

"Because the Doctor asked me to before he got drunk. No idea why. Anyway, she was tossing and turning and you were the only person I knew was sober enough to talk about it."

Rose wrinkled her nose incredulously. "Jack, she's having a _nightmare_. She nearly got burnt alive today, it's hardly unexpected."

"Hmm. S'pose you're right."

"Course I am. It's what I'm here for."

"And all those times you were wrong?"

"I wasn't. I'm just very good at pretending I am."

Jack laughed softly. "Speaking of pretending…"

Rose groaned. "Oh, please don't. I have no idea how I'm gonna manage this one."

Jack reached out and placed a hand on her quilt-covered shoulder. "You'll have to stop calling him the DonnaDoctor, for a start. And he's still the Doctor, just… different."

"I know. And I should just be thinking of it like a regeneration. It's just that he reminds me so much of…"

"Our first Doctor? Ol' Big Ears? I see where you're coming from."

Rose looked at Jack strangely. "No. Not him, although I can see where you're coming from. No, he reminds me of me."

"_You_?"

"Yeah. Like, how I was back at the beginning. You know I told you about the Nestene Consciousness? How I wanted to kill it? He's just like me, only I had the Doctor to help me out."

"Well, there you go then. You be his Doctor, he'll be your Rose, and you can terrorise Parallel Torchwood for the rest of your trouble-making lives. And Jackie can slap you both when you get too cocky."

Rose had to stuff part of the quilt in her mouth to keep from laughing too loud. Moments later, Jack joined her in silent hysterics.

"Oh, God. I have to _act_," Rose moaned some time later. "I couldn't even play a sheep in the school Nativity. How'm I gonna pretend not to accept that he's leaving me, when I'm fine with it?"

Jack grinned widely and pulled out a small bottle from behind his back. "Drink enough of this and you won't care any more."

"Hyper-vodka? Didn't you tell me that stuff's _lethal_?"

"Only in large doses. Come on, live a little!"

Rose shook her head, then dragged herself upright as Jack poured the drinks out. She took one, lifted it, and made a toast. "To the Children of Time and their Doctor issues."

"I'll drink to that," Jack replied, but he made no move to drink. Instead, he watched as Rose downed the small drink in one and fell gracefully onto the bed. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Jack tugged the now-empty glass out of her hand and stood up quietly. "I'm sorry, Rosie. Really I am. But you said yourself - you're a terrible actress. And we both know you wouldn't keep it up. You'd fight so hard he wouldn't be able to leave you, and that'll only hurt more in the long run."

He switched off the light and moved to the door, turning to glance at her small frame in the darkness. "You'll thank me one day. 'Cause you're like a little sister, and you deserve a shot at a normal life. I can't let the Doctor ruin you too."

And with that, he headed for the kitchen to wash away all traces of Retcon from Rose's glass.


	139. Routine

OK, people, no update tomorrow and you probably know why. Although let's face it: everyone in Britain will be crowded round their TVs, and everyone outside of Britain will probably be sitting by their torrents, waiting for 'The Waters Of Mars' to be uploaded by some kindly geek. Not that I'm advocating such illegal activities. No, sir. Not me, Aunty Beeb.

Disclaimer: I own bad days. I also own some good days. Then again, so does everyone else.

* * *

139 - Routine

It had not been a good day for Martha Jones.

She got up to find that not only was her toaster broken, it was determined to set her flat on fire. She spent fifteen minutes convincing it that she liked her flat the way it was and would prefer it to remain charcoal-free, then hurriedly got dressed to find a hole in her favourite blouse. After scrabbling around in the laundry basket, she finally got dressed and got in her car - only to discover that it had run out of petrol.

She hit her head repeatedly on the steering wheel, then called a mechanic.

Half an hour later, she stumbled into her office, waving her U.N.I.T. pass distractedly at the security guard. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the office to inquire who the hell she was, and why she thought a bus pass would get her into a top-secret facility. Martha replied by stamping on his foot, stowing the mistaken pass in her bag and producing her official pass, then asking how the hell he was protecting the identity of a top-secret facility if he couldn't even keep it secret when interrogating a suspected spy?

He threatened to sue her for breaking his foot. She knelt down, knocked him onto the floor, tugged his shoe off and, following a quick examination, said "I'm a doctor. It's not broken, but it will be in a minute."

The guard apologised, then left swiftly to get her a cup of coffee. She had a feeling she'd scared him.

Two hours later, she found herself buried under a mountain of paperwork. There had been three invasions in the past week, all of them requiring her 'expert' opinion. Luckily, two of them had been cases of spaceships with faulty sat-nav ("I could have sworn it said turn _right_ at Alpha Centauri!"), but the third had turned nasty and involved civilian casualties. Which meant lots of paperwork.

Martha broke off to answer the phone. "Erm… hello?" she said suspiciously.

"Dr. Jones? We have a situation."

She mentally groaned. "Yes? What is it?"

"I'll put it on the line."

There was a slight rustling in the pause that followed, during which Martha started to wonder if she could make a break for the door and convince Tom to take her to Tahiti. Then a voice came on the line. "Miss Jones? How delightful to speak to you again. I must confess, I was most surprised to find myself here."

"_Shakespeare_?" she whispered. "What- how… put the other guy back on."

What followed was a heated conversation in which Martha insisted the U.N.I.T. generals had touched something they shouldn't, and they insisted that since she knew him first, he was her problem. Eventually, they reached a compromise: Shakespeare would stay in Martha's flat while she and the other scientists tried to figure out what the hell happened. "I'm putting the food bill on expenses," Martha warned.

The general responded by threatening to slash her research budget, and hung up on her.

Suddenly, her secretary's head poked around the door. "Dr. Jones? There's someone here to see you. Says he needs your help."

Martha stared at the woman in bleary-eyed disbelief for a second. "Oh, send him in," she said wearily, with the air of someone who knows that things can't possible get any worse.

A short pause. Then a very familiar figure walked through the door, with one hand covered to the wrist by the mouth of a foot-long orange fish.

"Hello, Martha!" said the Doctor cheerily.

Martha's head hit the desk. Repeatedly.


	140. Exchange

Two warnings: first, spoilers. This is a _Waters of Mars_ reaction ficlet, a sort-of companion to 'Water Born' (self-promotion? Would I?). If you haven't seen the episode, then this will _ruin_ it for you.

Second, the tone of this. It's - and I'm going to go out on a limb, here - the darkest thing I've ever written. You ain't never seen a take on the Christmas Specials like this before.

Finally, a note to those of you who have seen TWoM - wasn't it brilliant? Incidentally, take another look at 'Voice' (C33). Did I call it or what?

Disclaimer: I own this AN, which is now longer than the fic it's written in.

* * *

140 - Exchange

"I'm sorry, Doctor."

"Donna?" He sounded hurt. He sounded like everything he believed in had been betrayed.

Maybe it had.

"Doctor, please don't make this any harder than it already is." Her voice was hushed under the weight of so many unshed tears, but she didn't care that he could hear it. He at least deserved to know that someone cared.

"Donna, I don't know who put you up to this, but please. Stop and think about what you're doing."

She'd heard him use that voice many times. That pleading, appeal-to-the-rational-side, you-don't-really-want-to-do-this tone was as familiar as her own voice. She never thought she'd be on the receiving end of it, though.

Maybe its familiarity was why it didn't work on her. Or maybe it was the fact that although his face was turned towards hers, his eyes were locked on the gun in her hand.

Either way, her voice grew stronger. "I'm under orders from Torchwood. You've been classified as a threat to the people of Earth. I can't save you this time."

Now his eyes moved to meet hers. "What happened to you, Donna? What did they do to you? It's me. You know me. Now put the gun down."

"I _can't_." The crack in her voice was back, and with it the tears. "Because I'll tell you what happened to me. I watched the one person I trusted betray _everything_ he'd ever taught me. So why the hell should I follow your rules, Doctor? You've been changing _time_, fixed events and you've just been rearranging them to suit yourself!"

"Donna, I did it to _save_ everyone. Because I can do that! For so long, I've been abiding by the rules of the Time Lords, but I'm the only one left! It's my turn to _make_ the rules."

"Why don't you understand? You. Can't. _Change_. This. The entire Universe is collapsing because _you_ thought you were above it all!"

---

"_Rose Tyler! Good to see you. Brilliant old …fourteen-year-old you. Bit of advice: one day, you'll be in a big white room in Canary Wharf, hanging on to a lever. Do me a favour, will you? Hold onto the one on the left."_

---

"You taught me that some things are _meant_ to happen, and it's impossible to change them!"

"_Nothing_ is impossible. Not for me. Not anymore."

"And where has it got you?"

_---_

"_Martha… Jones? First year medical student? Great! Listen, it sounds a bit mad, but eventually you're gonna meet an old man with a pocket watch a bit like the one I'm holding now. When that happens… just keep it to yourself, yeah? Better in the long run that you don't say anything."_

---

"I tried to make their lives _better_. I was trying to _help_."

"You're tearing us apart!" Donna had moved closer now, until the gun was almost pressed against his chest. "You have _lost_ everything that made you human."

"I'm _not_ human! I'm a _Time Lord_."

"_You were one of us_! We _trusted_ you! And you threw it back in our faces, you just did what you damn well pleased. Don't you understand? I'm not the one that changed. _You_ did."

_---_

"_Captain Adelaide Brooke?"_

"_I should leave."_

"_I should really be going."_

"_You can tell her face-to-face!"_

"_The Time Lord Victorious."_

_---_

"Donna, you have to believe me. This is what's best for everyone. Everybody lives! Didn't you promise me forever?"

"Yes." And the word was little more than a breath, so quiet he had unwittingly pressed himself harder against the barrel of the gun to be close enough to hear it. All around them, silence reigned, punctuated only by the far-off sounds of a Universe tearing itself apart at the seams.

Donna's tears blurred her vision, but she wiped them away with the back of her left hand. She lifted her fingers to gently touch the Doctor's face, her other hand rock steady on the gun.

"Yes," she repeated. "I promised you forever. And I'm truly sorry. But this is all I can give you."

Her palm was flat against his cheek now and his eyes drew hers like a magnet. Neither could look away. She searched in his face for a sign of repentance, an indicator that he would stop and put everything right, but she found nothing but anger at being unable to change things himself, and acceptance that she would do it for him.

---

"_I've gone too far!"_

---

He smiled painfully against her hand. "Donna. Thank you."

She frowned slightly. "But… I don't understand. What for?"

He lifted his left hand to cover her right, wrapping his fingers around the space where she clutched the trigger. "Because you were right all along. I need someone to stop me."

As one, they pulled the trigger.


	141. Proof

My mind works in strange ways. Yesterday's ficlet was dark. This... isn't.

Disclaimer: I seem to be using Martha quite a bit, and since she's abandoned the Beeb to work for ITV... maybe we can do a deal?

* * *

141 - Proof

Martha hadn't thought she could get scared anymore, but today she discovered she was wrong.

Still, she was going to go through with this. Lord knows, she'd had enough practice - it was not exaggerating to say that years of her life had been spent preparing. And she knew she was ready - she _knew_.

Being with the Doctor, travelling around the stars, she had seen incredible things. And she was determined to share at least a little piece of herself with someone.

Didn't stop her getting scared, though.

"Miss Jones?" the kindly old woman called, jerking her out of her reverie. "We're ready for you now."

"Right, thanks," replied Martha. _This is it. No backing out now._ Because really, she'd faced down the foulest things in the galaxy; this should be easy.

The woman laid a hand on her arm as she passed. "Not that we're not grateful, but… if you don't mind my asking, why did you volunteer for this?"

Martha frowned for a second, then her face cleared. She looked the woman in the eye, smiled, and said "Because someone once told me that words are the most powerful weapon a person can have."

And leaving the woman with a perplexed look on her face, Martha walked out and sat in the middle of the circle of waiting five-year-olds.

"Hi, my name's Martha, and I'm going to be doing Story Time today. My story starts on an ordinary day, just outside a hospital, with a strange man who took off his tie…"


	142. Wormseed

I can only apologise for the length of time I've been absent. Internet Meltdown took hold with full force, I'm afraid. However, hopefully I'm back proper now, with a prompt from xAngelus's Darlax which was written an extraordinarily long time ago.

Disclaimer: Russel doesn't take massive breaks... oh, wait. Yes he did.

* * *

142 - Wormseed

Three months after the end of the world as we knew it, and Luke Smith was bored.

Of course, he wasn't Luke Smith any more, strictly speaking; his 'mother' had insisted he become Master Wormwood. Luke had a feeling he was supposed to be grateful for her acceptance of him, but he just found himself missing his Chemistry set.

He missed other things, of course; his mother for one. Sarah Jane had been relegated to some deep dark part of the new house, in one of the areas that Luke 'must never ever enter'. Rani, presumably, was down there too, although Clyde still got to visit occasionally.

But all of that was by-the-by. Mrs. Wormwood (he refused to call her 'Mum') was off somewhere consulting some higher-up about the next stage of her plan for universal domination, and Luke had been confined to his room. Apparently to keep him safe, although it was more than likely to stop him snooping around.

Luke sighed and glanced surreptitiously at the CCTV camera in the corner of his room. He checked his watch, and sighed a little bit louder.

Precisely three minutes and forty-seven seconds later, the guard watching the camera's footage went on his break. In the half-minute changeover before the new guard was settled, Luke had clambered onto a chair and pulled a wire out of the camera.

Anyone would think he'd been practicing.

As things now stood, the camera was showing looped footage. Hopefully, the guard would fail to notice that the images on screen were on a two-minute repeat.

Luke pulled his project out from under his bed. As a sign of trust, Mrs. Wormwood had allowed him to roam most of the house at will, and along his journey he had picked up all manner of things that she had presumably scavenged from Earth. Sheets of metal, fibre optic cables, batteries from laser guns - and one very curious item that appeared to be a pen, but was actually some sort of sonic transducer. The latter had been useful in more ways than Luke would have thought possible, helping him with everything from soldering to choosing which cable to use. And the project was nearly ready.

He jumped and shoved it back under his bed as a knock sounded at the door. Who could it possibly be? Clyde didn't knock, and neither did the servants. Mrs. Wormwood at least pretended to knock, but strode straight in after three sharp raps. No-one knocked as timidly as that, nor did they wait for him to answer.

"Er… come in," he called hesitantly. He stood in the centre of the room awkwardly as the door swung open…

To reveal Maria.

"Maria!" Luke yelled. She stepped forward with three quick strides and flung her arms around him.

"Luke, I thought I'd never see you again!"

He hugged her back tightly, then pulled away. "Why are you here? I would have thought…"

She shook her head. "Mrs. Wormwood tracked me down. Mum and Dad have been put with Sarah Jane, apparently, but _she _let me come up here to see you. Luke, what's going on? Why is _she_ back? And what _happened_?"

Luke gestured for them both to sit on the floor, and he began to tell her the story. About the Brigadier, and the Sontaran. About how they'd been just minutes too late to stop Mrs. Wormwood from releasing Horath, and about how she'd been in charge ever since.

But mostly, he told her about his new life. Because he had _hated_ every single second of this lonely, caged existence and his thoughts had turned to Maria almost more than anyone else. She of all of them would be the only one with no idea what had taken place.

As he finished his story, he realised to his horror that he was crying. He knew it was a perfectly rational emotional response, but for some reason he still felt embarrassed. Maria simply handed him a tissue from up the sleeve of her jacket, and held his hand while he wiped his eyes.

"I've got a secret," he confessed when the tears subsided. "I've been working on something to stop Mrs. Wormwood. Or at least, something that might know _how_ to stop her."

"What is it?"

Luke reluctantly let go of her hand, reached underneath his bed, and pulled out his project. Maria's face lit up into the widest grin he'd ever seen, and he smiled back at her. "I've been working on it for weeks - a brand new model. It's nearly ready. I just need something to tighten the screws and attach the batteries with."

Maria's grin grew, if possible, even broader. She put one hand up to her hair, and pulled out three hair pins. "Will these do?"

He grabbed her for a hug so quickly she almost fell over. Letting go, he took the three pins and fiddled with the project for a few minutes. Sliding the batteries into place, he moved round to sit next to her and gave the project a sharp tap on the head to wake it up.

"Greetings, Master Luke, Mistress Maria. Awaiting instructions."

Maria laughed delightedly and patted it on the head. "You _good_ dog, K9!"

"Affirmative," said K9, wagging his battery-powered tail excitedly.


	143. Chorus

Short and seasonal, today, people. Based on a long-ago prompt from a line in 'DeParting' (C128).

Disclaimer: The clue is in the name - _dis_claim. As in, do not claim.

* * *

143 - Chorus

"SI-LENCE."

"WE O-BEY."

"THIS IS THE PLAN MEET-ING. ANY DA-LEK WHO IS NOT WILL-ING TO JOIN THE BAT-TLE WILL LEAVE NOW OR BE EX-TER-MIN-AT-ED."

"…"

"WE ARE HERE TO LEARN A-BOUT THE TRA-DI-TIONS OF EARTH FROM A HU-MAN. THEN WE WILL KNOW HOW TO DE-FEAT THEM. BRING IN THE HU-MAN."

"Er… hello."

"WHAT IS YOUR NAME?"

"Mr. Copper. I must say, I don't really understand-"

"YOU ARE NOT RE-QUIRED TO UN-DER-STAND. TELL US A-BOUT THE EARTH TRA-DI-TION KNOWN AS CHRIST-MAS."

"Ah… good. I know about that one. Christmas is a time when the people of Earth come together to sing-"

"WHY DO THEY SING?"

"Well… I suppose it brings them together. Makes them better allies, or friends."

"SO IT IS A WAY TO BE AC-CEPT-ED WITH-OUT QUEST-ION OR SUS-PIC-ION?"

"Er… yes. I think you could look at it that way."

"TEACH US THESE EARTH SONGS."

---

_Three days later…_

"Ah! Christmas. Wonderful time of year. Well, for some people. My Christmases always seem to go wrong. That time with the Gelth, then the Sycorax, _then_ the Racnoss, not to mention the Cyberman thing. Still, lovely, Christmas! Crackers and turkey. Or is it turkey and crackers? I must ask… wait, what?"

"GOD REST YE MER-RY GENT-LE-MEN…"

"What?"

"SI-LENT NIGHT…"

"What?"

"HARK, THE HER-ALD AN-GELS SIII-IING…"

"_What_?"


	144. Priority

A small offering before the massacre tomorrow. Accordingly, there are SPOILERS for 'The End of Time - Part One'. Yes, I said SPOILERS. With a capital SPOILERS.

Right. This one begins directly after _that_ scene at the end. No, not the one with the shouty ex-James Bond, the one with six billion people who suddenly look like that bloke from _Life On Mars_. And I apologise in advance, because after typing that sentence, it's pretty much a given that there will be an EoT parody ficlet at some point.

Disclaimer: Russell relinquishes it tomorrow. I have a cunning plan to steal during the changeover.

* * *

144 - Priority

It was, quite simply, the end of the world.

The Master had taken the whole human race and twisted them in his own image. To all intents and purposes, he was quite literally God. And, the Doctor's busy mind prompted, even if that problem could be fixed there was still the upcoming issue of the _thing_ in the Darkness that the Ood had warned him about. Even if he stopped _that_, there was also a regeneration-slash-death to worry about.

And in a single moment of clarity, he decided it didn't matter. Because somewhere across London, the most important woman in the Universe was absolutely terrified and she needed him.

"Wilf!" he called. "I'll go in here and let you out, you leave the phone and let me out, and then I can talk to Donna, OK? OK!"

Wilf looked thoroughly unconvinced about the 'one-in, one-out' system, but did so anyway. Then the Doctor got back into the little booth with the phone and let him out once more. "Wilf, this is very important. Run. Get out of here, hide somewhere, it doesn't matter. But do _not_ let yourself get caught."

"But what about-"

"I'll take care of her. Trust me," and suddenly the Doctor dropped all pretences. He let the terrifying, unstoppable Oncoming Storm shine out of his eyes, and he could see on Wilf's face that he understood. Nothing, _nothing_, was going to stop him saving Donna. Not this time. "I will do _anything_ to keep her safe."

And although the _even die for her _went unsaid, both men heard it. So Wilf ran, and the Doctor shakily lifted the phone to his ear. "Donna?"

There was a dead silence on the end of the line. The Doctor's other hand came up so both were clutching the small mobile tightly. "Donna? Donna, please…"

"Space- spaceman…"

He nearly cried with relief at her voice. But then his entire body went tense as he realised she had stuttered over the familiar word. "How's your head? Do you remember everything?"

"I- I think so… It's a bit… muddled. And my head h-hurts…"

"Oh, Donna…" The Doctor's knuckles were white now from clutching the phone. He warily glanced at the half-dozen Masters who were now surrounding the transparent plastic booth and was suddenly filled with anger. How _dare_ the Master do this? After everything that had happened, how _dare_ he harm Donna? "Just hold on. Can you do that for me?"

"Doc- Doctor, my mum and… my friend. They've got Harold Saxon's head."

"I know, Donna. I'm working on it," and somewhere at the back of his mind it dimly registered that she'd said 'friend' instead of 'fiancée'. Something to consider for later, perhaps? "Donna, just hide… cupboard under the stairs or something, yeah? And try not to think about anything you've just remembered. Think about… I don't know. The X Factor."

She groaned slightly, an odd mechanical whistling on the other end of the line. "Do I have to? I'd r-rather go out thinking of time and space to be honest-"

"_Don__'__t you dare_," the Doctor hissed. "Don't you _dare_ talk like that. You're going to _live_, you hear me, Donna Noble? You're going to be _brilliant_."

There was a small chuckle. "I suppose I… did p-promise you forever."

The smile on his face could have lit up a small country for a week with its power. "Yes, you did. And I intend to make you keep that promise. So just hold on for me, OK? I'm coming for you."

"B-better make it… sooner rather than l-later, Spaceman…"

"I will, Donna" he whispered as he disconnected the line. For a second, he just stood there and let the anger, the helplessness, the panic wash over him. Then he pulled out his sonic screwdriver and became deathly calm.

The Master had gone too far. He had hurt Donna Noble, and he would pay.

The Doctor was going to war.


	145. Softly

Yesterday's brief interlude was brought to you by 'Must Write A One-Shot Tribute To Ten Through Heartbroken Sobs' Productions. Normal service will now be resumed. Thank you.

A long time ago, Derek Metaltron set me a prompt for everyone's favourite pepperpots. After a very long wait, here's the ficlet.

Disclaimer: For the first time, I can honestly say that neither Russell nor myself owns Doctor Who.

* * *

145 - Softly

Whispers, whispers on the wind.

They are coming. Not as before, all brash certainty and swift revenge. This time, there are tales of a more restrained consortium.

They do not scream; they do not order. They _listen_, as quietly as you or I, and they use what they hear to bring us to the ground.

There are whispers that they can _think_, that they can feel and imagine. There are even those who give them names.

We cannot ask, my friends, for more. To ask is to draw attention, and attention from the Faithful means death. They are the elite; they are above all others. They answer directly to the Emperor himself, and know no other god.

Yes, I say god. This is not an army, this is not a taskforce. This, my friends, is a _cult_.

How do you fight a cult? How do you fight that which is intangible? The answer is: another god. One who can take their legacy and play dice with it, gamble it away on a whim. One who, though surrounded by yes-men, will always and forever stand on his own terms. We need a god who is _lonely_.

From Skaro they arrive. From Earth they fight.

And from Gallifrey comes their defeat.


	146. Fairytale

I was paranoid this one would be retconned after EoT. Surprisingly, it's still canon-ish.

Disclaimer: After New Year's Day, I am the owner of one tissue box. The tissues are suspiciously absent.

* * *

146 - Fairytale

Let me tell you a story.

A tale of heroes and monsters. A tale of nightmares and imagination. A tale of-

What do you mean, _get on with it_? I'm trying to set the scene here.

Alright, I'll cut to the chase. There was this girl, right, and it was her wedding day. And she was walking down the aisle, and all of a sudden she started screaming- What, you want me to demonstrate? Alright…

…oh, your ears hurt, do they? Well, you asked for it. Anyway, she was screaming and then she just _disappeared. _And when she opened her eyes, she wasn't in the church anymore. She was in this big round room with bumps on the wall and a mushroom thing in the centre- you don't know what a mushroom is? What are they teaching you at school? Go and get your encyclopaedia, go on…

…there, see, that's a mushroom. So there was one of those in the middle of this room, and on the other side of it was a man. And this girl was really angry that he'd stolen her from her wedding, so she started shouting at him. Oi! Cheeky. She sounded nothing like me. This man, he shouted right back, and he was really rude to her, and I mean _really_ rude. Yeah, like Mummy sometimes is to people who annoy her. So she slapped him, and then he promised to get her back to the church. Anyway, it turned out that man was an alien, and the room wasn't just a room - it was a _spaceship_. And the mushroom thing, that was the spaceship's controls. So he was fiddling about with the controls, and the girl…

…what? Oh, sorry, sweetheart, I zoned out for a minute there. What happened next? Oh, I don't- I suppose the girl got back to her wedding and married the man she loved. Yeah, that must've happened.

I know, sweetie. It's a bit of a rubbish ending. Mummy feels like she's forgetting something. But anyway, it's time for you to go to sleep now. Goodnight…

What- what did the alien _look_ like? I don't know, it was just a story. I… I reckon he was… tall, maybe. Big hair. Might have… worn a suit…

I'll see if I can remember any more, and I'll tell you it for tomorrow's bedtime story, OK? Goodnight, sweetheart.

Sweet dreams.


	147. Uprising

I think I've mentioned the premise of this one elsewhere, but it just bugs me. Think back to 'Last Of The Time Lords'. I know you don't want to, but try. Remember that scene with the glowing DobbyDoctor and the world praying? Well...

Disclaimer: If it belonged to me, this rather obvious plot hole would have been spotted before transmission.

* * *

147 - Uprising

The Doctor rose up in a haze of white light, arms outstretched. "The one thing you can't do," he proclaimed as he was restored, magically, miraculously, to his former self. "Stop them thinking."

The Master backed away. How could this be happening? All of his planning, his tireless efforts, reduced to nothing in one sweeping display of human solidarity? Had he not planned for this?

The Doctor was entirely rejuvenated now, and walking towards the Master, who knew that it was only a matter of seconds before the Doctor said those dreaded words, the words he had been trying to say for over a year. Swift action was needed…

"Guards!" the Master called. "Shoot him."

They did so.

The Doctor collapsed to the ground and the Master quickly walked up to him to give him a quick kick in the stomach for good measure. Around them, Jack, Martha and her family, and even Lucy looked stunned at this turn of events. The Master gestured to the guards. "Shoot them all!"

Everyone except Lucy was quickly killed, with Jack being restrained while he was down. The Master smirked, and knelt beside the Doctor, now glowing with the light of regeneration, to whisper in his ear.

"What, even in a room full of _my_ guards, surrounded by _my _loyal followers and on _my_ ship, you thought that making you younger again would suddenly change things? You're more stupid than you look."

He turned back to the rest of the guards. "Take the bodies down to Earth - let's send a message to the workforce. Oh, and make sure Miss Martha Jones is recognisable."

He offered his arm to his wife. "Lucy, my dear, let's have dinner. We can reset the countdown afterwards.

She giggled as they left the room. The Master glanced back over his shoulder and called to the guards "And bring the Doctor to me when he's finished regenerating. After all, Lazarus was a scientist. It's only fair that we use proper tests for his inventions. Such as, repeating the experiment?"

Lucy giggled again, and the Master allowed himself a true smile. The New Empire of the Time Lords, it seemed, was only just beginning.


	148. Acceptance

Another of my Odd Little Thoughts (TM). Not much more to say, really.

Disclaimer: Having seen the new trailer, DW Season 5/1/31 owns my soul.

* * *

148 - Acceptance

This is a mistake. She knows as soon as she arrives at the shiny front door, but that doesn't stop her knocking. She's nervous, but understandably so, since this is the first contact she's had with anyone from this world save her new-old dad. (She doesn't think the servants count since they don't actually talk to her, they just scurry around trying to be quiet, and anyway, she's not too comfortable with the idea of being friends with someone who calls you 'Ma'am'.)

The door opens and the person stood there is almost too much like the one she remembers. She knows it's not healthy to compare, but she can't help the little flare of hope at something so utterly _then_. It's not unlike the feeling of first discovering the scrap of paper with that telephone number on it, tucked away in the back pocket of her jeans.

She doesn't remember dialling the number.

---

"_Who's calling, please?"_

"_It's… it's Rose Tyler. You won't know me-"_

"_The Vitex heiress?"_

"_Yeah… yeah. Sorry, still getting used to the whole 'heiress' thing."_

---

The two of them sit at the kitchen table in silence. It's utterly oppressive, hanging between them like a dusty old curtain. She knows she should say something, but for the life of her she can't think what.

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

She smiles in the affirmative, and steels herself. Somehow it's easier to talk when the other person has their back turned and their head in a cupboard.

"I know you're probably wondering why I'm here."

"I can't say I haven't thought about it. After all, you were a little vague on the phone."

---

"_Is this about an interview? Because I'd be happy to, but you should know I work freelance-"_

" _No! No, it's- I can't really say why I called. I mean, it's difficult to explain over the phone."_

"_Can you at least explain how you came by my number?"_

"_I sort of… know you. By reputation. A bit."_

"_You don't sound very certain. Are you sure you've got the right person?"_

---

As the cups of steaming hot tea are placed on the table, she begins to talk. She doesn't look up, doesn't stop to invite a reply, she just lets the words spill out and take flight upon the air. She senses a pair of eyes on her, but keeps hers firmly on the cup in front of her. Neither does she drink from it; it is just a way to keep her attention focused. Dammit, she _needs_ to get this right, because if she doesn't she'll just sound crazy and that's the last thing she wants on this Earth or any other.

She starts at the beginning. Speaks of her life and her troubles, the boys she loved and the places she visited. But most of all, she speaks of _him_.

"For the first nineteen years of my life, nothing happened. Nothing at all. But then I met a man called the Doctor…"

---

"_Yeah, I'm sure. Listen, I'm gonna sound mad, but… can I see you? Sort of… make an appointment?"_

"_A professional meeting?"_

"_No, more of a… chat. Sorry, I'm not explaining this very well. I just need to talk to someone."_

"_Well… I suppose I could see you. Let me just check my diary…"_

---

She finally stops speaking, having finished with Torchwood, and the wall, and finding that long-forgotten number. She's mentioned how she waited while the phone rang, hoping against hope that on this point at least _her_ world and _this _world would match up. Because so far, _this_ world has been several points behind, and not just for the obvious reason.

Her voice cuts off abruptly at the end of her story, and she gazes absently at the rippling surface of the stone-cold tea. Then she realises to her faint embarrassment that the ripples are caused by the tears sliding off the end of her nose.

"D'you believe me?" she chokes out, and she _hates_ that lost-little-girl tone that crept unforeseen into her words. There is a silence, thick and oppressive, and just for a moment, she wishes she had never come.

Then a hand takes hers and she looks up to kind eyes which also brim with tears. "Yes," comes the answer. "And I'm honoured you came to me."

Then arms are cradling her as they both cry their hearts out for a world that was never supposed to be theirs. And suddenly she accepts this life, with all of its failings and wonders, because at least if it falls to pieces she has a friend.

---

"…_I'm back. How about two o'clock on Tuesday?"_

"_That's perfect. Thank you for your time, Miss Smith."_

"_Please. Call me Sarah Jane."_


	149. Results

Way back in 'Abridgement' (C135), I launched a competition to summarise an episode in one or two lines. I then promptly forgot about it due to Internet woes. From each entrant, I have picked the best two summaries (although obviously, if you only entered one, I could only choose one). Then, being the lazy person I am, I invite you readers to vote on which is the best. No, you can't vote for yourself. And the winner gets to name their prize.

Disclaimer: I currently own whatever prize it is the winner asked for. It may be virtual, but for now it's mine.

* * *

149 - Results

**xAngelus's Darlax**

SJA - The Wedding of Sarah Jane Smith.

GETTING THE RING IN FIVE (?) VERY SHORT WEEKS  
In which Sarah Jane proves that we don't have to be 20-30 to get married and the Doctor makes an appearance, merely to prove to fans that yes, Dr. Who still exists even though it hasn't been on in seven months. However Doc leaves before the battle and returns when villain is defeated. What a hero!

DW - The Doctor's Daughter

REPRODUCTION  
In which it has proven that just because its a family show doesn't mean they can't have the main character reproduce via a machine and have five-year-olds across the country asking mums and dads is that really how its done

**elvespiratesandcowboysohmy**

DW - New Earth

THE CAT IN THE HABIT  
In which the Doctor and Rose are tricked into providing fan girls with a long-awaited-overrated tongue war and a flab of skin posses a smurf.

DW - School Reunion

RETURN OF THE K-9  
In which Rose gets into a cat fight with Sarah Jane Smith while the Doctor and K-9 stop Giles from ultimately destroying the world with green goo. Mickey realizes why strangers tend to scratch him behind the ears.

**GwenCooper456**

TW - Everything Changes

THEY SAY THINGS CHANGE, BUT NOTHING REALLY DOES- A cop with a gap between her teeth big enough to fit a slice of toast stumbles upon Captain Perv, A ** with a glove fetish, Dr. Angst, an Asian with computer skills(surprise surprise), and their butler.

TW - Captain Jack Harkness

CAPTAIN PERV - The Asian and Captain Perv get sucked back to world war two and they meet the REAL Captain Perv, because Captain Perv isn't really Captain Perv's name, keeping up with me? Good. It turns out that the REAL Captain Perv is gay, go figure, and likes OUR Captain Perv. They Make out and go home.

**CountryGrl**

DW - The Girl In The Fireplace

TICK TOCK, SNOG SNOG  
In which clockwork has a dark side, Mickey gets a little perspective, the Doctor falls in love with a pretty face and we all want to give him a good slap.

**Was'up**

DW - The Christmas Invasion

LOOK AT US, WE'RE POPULAR!  
In which the Doctor with the Teeth has a bit of a lie down and gets his hand chopped off!

DW - The Next Doctor

LIES!  
In which the next Doctor isn't the doctor at all.

**GeekyKeen**

DW - The Christmas Invasion

ROCK YOU LIKE A SYCORAX  
In which the Doctor takes a nap, Rose has multiple panic attacks and Harriet Jones looks tired.

DW - The Next Doctor

I'M THE DOCTOR AND SO ARE YOU!  
In which two Davids play the Doctor and a Transformer attacks 19th century London.

**martha smith**

DW - The Sontaran Stratagem

RETURN OF THE RETURNEE  
In which Donna, who replaced Martha, is replaced by Martha, who is then replaced by clone!Martha, who is then replaced by  
Martha, who is then about to be replaced by Donna - roll the themetune! Oh, and Tomtom is replaced by ATMOS.

DW - Turn Left

INTERSECTION  
OOh, look! It's the Rose! Didn't see that coming at ALL. Radio Times summary: Donna must save the Universe with the help of a mysterious blonde woman. Who can it be? Guest Starring: Billie Piper.

**moonchild94**

DW - Midnight

CONSPIRACY FUN  
In which there's a train that breaks down and the doctor being imitated and people wanting to kill him and OH YEAH! We'll provide the fans with a lot of random information to conspire with.


	150. Partners

Yesterday's absence was caused by my computer helpfully wiping my documents. I think I need a new laptop.

Housekeeping: results of the competition will be up in a day or two when I've counted the votes. There was a much better response than I expected; I thank you all. Also, computer issues have prevented me from answering reviews thus far. Bear with me; I'll get there.

And now for today's ficlet (150! Woo!), prompted by xAngelus's Darlax. It forms part of the 'Children of Wine' series, slotting in between 'Truths' (C137) and 'Goodbyes' (C79). Technically, it's at the same time as 'Accountable' (C138). Confused? You will be. Just remember 'Journey's End' and think of the gap between flying the Earth home and dropping off the collective masses. You'll get there.

Disclaimer: Mine. All mine. Please?

* * *

150 - Partners

"Don?"

Donna groaned and lifted her head slightly. She had only just gotten off to sleep and someone was interrupting her already? Still, the mystery voice had just called her 'Don', and there was no way on Earth or any other planet she was going to let them get away with that. Summoning the most dangerous voice she could muster, she growled "Come in."

The Doctor's head appeared round the door. "Are you asleep?"

She rolled her eyes at the contrite look on his face. "I was. I'm not anymore."

He edged his way in and tapped on the door to close it. Then he went to sit on the very end of her bed, almost falling off.

She frowned at him in the half-light provided by the TARDIS. "Doctor?"

"Who else would it- oh. Yes, it's me."

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, her studying him curiously. Was there a quantifiable difference between him and… _him_? Or was it just a lucky guess that told her the man entering her room was not the one with whom she shared DNA?

Without warning, she wiggled her toes and the Doctor fell from his precarious position. She leaned over and, with a smug grin at his disgruntled face, grabbed his arm. "Teach you to sit right on the edge," she smirked as she pulled him up so he was sat next to her on the bed. "Anyway, aren't you supposed to be drunk?"

"I could say the same about you," he countered. "Time Lords can expel alcohol from their bloodstream. I'll be dead on my feet in the morning, but at least it avoids hangovers. And you?"

"I never drank anything. Shows how much you noticed."

A flash of emotion appeared on his face, almost like… panic? But then it was gone and he was standing up. "Can't have that, can we?" And he disappeared through the door.

The Doctor returned about five minutes later with a small bottle and two large glasses. Donna peeked out of the covers she had snuggled up in and nodded her head towards his hands. "Being a bit optimistic there, aren't we, Spaceman?"

He grinned at her and laid down as she threw open the covers to invite him in. "My dear Donna, this bottle is dimensionally transcendental."

She took the glass he offered and watched as he poured out the blue liquid. "A toast. To bottles which are bigger on the inside."

"To defeated Daleks and hand-grown metacrises."

"To a Spaceman and an Earth girl."

"Not so much of an Earth girl anymore," he mused as she attempted to down the whole drink in one. "You do realise that technically we've now had two children together?"

It was only years of pub-based training that allowed Donna to avoid spitting her drink all over her covers. With considerable difficulty, she swallowed and turned to gawp at him. "_What_?"

He smirked slightly, then emptied his own glass and settled further under the duvet with his head resting on one hand and the glass hanging unsteadily from his other. "It's true. Count 'em."

Donna tugged the glass from his hand and reached over him to place it with hers on her bedside table. Then she mirrored his position, head on her right hand and the left on her hip. "Doesn't count. Jenny was your daughter, not mine."

"Nonsense," he scoffed. "You named her, made her feel at home, gave her a role model. You were a better mother than I was a father, no matter whose DNA she had."

"Oi! Don't be so hard on yourself. You came through for her in the end, and that's what matters."

"Hmm."

"Don't give me that. Say 'hmm' one more time and I'll slap you."

He grinned, but his eyes were full of pain. She reached out with her left hand and pushed his shoulder gently. "So who's the mystery second child?"

The haunted look faded into amusement. "The DonnaDoctor, as I think you called him. My regenerative energy plus your DNA. Instant son."

"He's made from your hand! I think you can claim sole ownership on this one, too."

"Would he be alive without either one of us?"

"Er… well- well, I suppose… but-"

"Admit it, Donna. We have kids."

She frowned, contemplating the idea, and almost laughed at the sudden image of the Doctor trying to feed the DonnaDoctor with a bottle. Then a more sobering thought struck her. "You do realise, what with your plan to send Handy off with Rose, that you've effectively made her your daughter-in-law?"

His face inexplicably filled with pride. "You figured out what I was planning? See, Donna? You _are_ brilliant. Why don't you believe me?"

"Stop avoiding the subject." She felt a slight guilty twinge at her earlier conversation with Rose, but let it go.

The Doctor sighed heavily and turned to lie on his back, hands behind his head. "I've thought about it. Long and hard. And… I'm OK with it."

Donna placed the back of her hand on his forehead, then moved it to cover his right heart. "Just checking - are you feeling alright? Because you nearly drowned yourself over this woman and now you're just going to let her skip off into the sunset with your twin?"

His face darkened as he turned his head towards her. "I did _not_ try to drown myself."

"Don't try that with me, mate. That parallel world with the beetle, that happened _because_ I wasn't there to stop you drowning yourself. I told you, you needed someone."

"Apparently, I needed _you_. And Rose wasn't the reason, she just… tipped me over the edge a bit."

"How so?"

He sighed. "It had been a long time coming. All that stuff that happened in the Time War, she helped me forget, but… it was still there. Under the surface. I was just pushing it down, trying to stay happy for her. But when she… well, there was no reason to hide it anymore."

Donna stroked his chest with her thumb absently where her hand still lay over his heart. "I'm sorry."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for. If anything, I should be thanking you."

A quizzical look. "Eh?"

A soft smile lit up his face. "You still don't get it, do you? Donna, you _saved_ me. Not just from 'drowning myself', not from losing Rose. Because now I can remember them and it doesn't hurt as much. D'you know, that day I met you was the first time I'd said 'Gallifrey' since the War? And that's all down to you."

"I just-"

"_Stop it_." He suddenly turned onto his side facing her, grabbing the hand that rested on his chest and holding it close. "You just _nothing_. Donna, why won't you believe me? Why can't you see how special you are?"

She ducked her head. God, she wanted to avoid this question. She'd been doing it successfully for months, why couldn't he let it go? "It doesn't _matter_."

"Yes, it does."

The words stopped her denial dead. Of course he wasn't going to let it go. He was the Doctor - how could he? Blushing slightly, she looked away as the words slipped out. "Lance made me feel special."

"Oh."

"And Lee. And my dad."

"_Oh_."

Was it just her imagination, or was he starting to cry? "Doctor? It's alright. Really, it is."

Alright, she definitely wasn't imagining it. He looked like she'd punched him.

"Donna… I don't know what to say."

"That makes a change."

"No… don't. Don't joke about this."

She looked him dead in the eye, and even in the dim light she could see the tears shining in his eyes. "I've got used to it. People come and go."

"Donna…"

She hated the disappointed tone in his voice, but she wasn't sure how to make it better. She didn't even know why he sounded that way. Was it her, letting him down with her self-esteem issues? Was he silently cursing the men who had left her? Or was it something else entirely, something that would explain the strange looks he had been giving her?

Eventually, as the TARDIS muted the lights to near total darkness, she made up her mind. She shifted across the bed, tucking herself into his chest as he still lay on his side. After a few moments, his right arm moved around her waist and he sighed deeply.

"How long are you gonna stay with me?" she whispered. It was a long-running joke with them; the answer never changed. But usually it was him asking the question.

"Forever," he whispered into the black. And with the word thrumming in her head to match his heartsbeat, she closed her eyes and slept.

---

He laid there wide awake, eyes staring at nothing but the darkness. He could feel her in his arms, could hear her breathing, and he wondered what had possessed him when he answered that last question.

It was the first time he had ever lied to her.

He dropped his forehead to her own, and pushed gently at the corners of her mind. It opened up immediately to him, flickering brightly with the DoctorDonna colours. It was beautiful, blinding mesmerising.

He hated it. It was going to steal her, one way or another. And he couldn't change a damn thing.

He prodded it gently, making sure that the alcohol she'd drunk earlier was holding it in check. God, she'd given him a fright with that one. No drinking? Nothing to cloud her mind from the burning Time Lord consciousness?

And what of that little revelation earlier? It had crushed his hearts knowing that anyone who had made her see even a shadow of her own brilliance had subsequently left her. And he was going to do exactly the same thing without her even remembering it.

But he'd saved her, for now. He could have these last few hours where she was his.

He cradled her in his arms, pulling her even closer as his eyes drifted closed. And together, they slept until dawn.

And the DoctorDonna waited.


	151. Modify

Slight spoilers for EoT, but nothing too drastic. Written because I found a forum full of people whose sole thought on the topic was "But what about Tom?"

Disclaimer: I claim these explanations because RTD was too lazy to do it for me.

* * *

151 - Modify

"Sorry, Jack."

"You're absolutely sure? Torchwood is-"

"Not what I want to do right now."

"So, what, you're staying with U.N.I.T.?"

She was incensed by the accusation. "Are you _joking_? After all that business with the Osterhagen key? I wouldn't stay if they paid me."

"They do pay you."

"Not for much longer."

"So what else are you going to do?"

She hung nervously in the doorway of his office, suddenly unsure of herself. What exactly _was_ she going to do? All she knew was that she couldn't trust U.N.I.T. anymore and that Torchwood was currently too full of ghosts to suit her.

"She could work with me."

Both Martha and Jack turned to see who the intruder was. Mickey gently pushed Martha out of the doorframe so her could enter the office himself. "I did a bit of freelance in the other world. I'm thinking about carrying on here. That is, if you're interested?"

She wasn't. And she wasn't going to be moved. She was a doctor; she craved her independence. She was _not_ going to end up partnered to some gung-ho overprotective ex of Rose's. (Because really, hadn't she had enough of Rose's cast-offs?)

---

"I can't _believe_ I said yes."

"Why did you say yes, then?"

Martha stared at her fiancée disbelievingly, cradling her coffee in her hands as protection against the bitter cold outside the café. "What else could I do? Him and Jack were giving me all these _reasons_ and anyway, what else was I going to do?"

"You could have looked into specialisms. You could have become a GP. There's any number of things you could have done, Martha. Maybe you miss it."

"Miss _what_? Being ganged up on? Being chased and shot at? I've had quite enough of that."

"Yeah, so you keep saying. But you know what? I think you _want_ the danger. I think you miss all of it. Or is it just _him_ you miss?"

She sighed. It was becoming a familiar argument between the two of them, ever since the Dalek invasion. He simply would not accept that she would come running every time the Doctor called because he was a _friend_. "We've been over this, Tom. Me and the Doctor, that's _done_. And you're the one bringing it up."

"You're the one who wants to go back to that life! How do you think it makes _me_ feel, Martha? Not knowing when or if you're coming home? How can you _want_ that for us?"

"I don't know _what_ I want."

"Then call me when you figure it out." And with that, he left the café.

---

"I'm sorry about Tom."

"Don't worry about it," she replied, irritated at Mickey's words. Because it wasn't his fault; her and Tom's break-up had been a long time coming and her decision to go freelance on the world-saving thing had just been the final straw. She was, however, getting supremely annoyed by other people's sympathy. "Just… pass me that probe, would you? No, not that thing, the one that looks like a probe."

He handed over the complicated-looking instrument with a touch of a smug grin. "You know, I didn't come all the way from a parallel world to be your surgical assistant."

"I know that. You're terrible at it. If I had been recruiting from other worlds, I would have gone to Molex's Star System."

"You just made that up."

"I travelled with the Doctor. I learned a thing or two about making stuff up."

His grin widened and he nudged her with his elbow. "So did I. Now what d'you want next, the stick with a power pack on it or the multi-purpose knife attached to a credit card?"

---

"You did _not_!"

"I did," he crowed triumphantly. "Proper commando roll, with a gun, on a spaceship."

"I don't believe you," she said, reaching over to his side to pinch some of his chips. "I think you're lying to get me to forget about your clumsy attempt at a jump over that ravine last Thursday."

"I'll have you know that I was pretending to fall. It was a trap, see, for that Slitheen."

"Which is why you let the Slitheen get away while you screamed like a girl about your twisted ankle?"

"It could have been _broken_."

"It was barely _bruised_."

"It hurt!"

"Aw, baby." She reached out and tapped his nose with one finger. "Don't worry, baby, I'll save you."

"You already have."

She blushed at his suddenly serious tone and ducked her head. They sat in silence for a few more minutes until her hand snaked out once again to grab his chips.

"Hands _off_."

---

Later that day, when he kissed her, she should have been surprised. She should have been protesting that it was far too soon after Tom. She should have been worried about their work and their partnership.

She wasn't any of those things. In fact, the only thought that went through her mind was one that left her giggling when he pulled back and she leaned forward to initiate another kiss.

_Rose doesn't know what she's missing._


	152. Loose

Yet another EoT-er. Is it my fault if that last episode left so much scope for ficlet-based fun?

Disclaimer: I have probably spent more time on this story than RTD by now. Does that not count?

* * *

152 - Loose

You don't know why you did it.

You know about the perils of messing with causality. You know about the Reapers, about the consequences of paradox. You also know that you would do it all again in a heartsbeat.

What you don't know is _why_.

Well, that's not entirely true. It made sense for you to save Martha and Mickey from the Sontaran - they're your friends and they needed help. Likewise with Luke and that passing car.

You can even rationalise that thing with Jack. He's supposed to protect the Earth in your absence, he's supposed to become a benevolent protector (or his head is, anyway). He is not supposed to sit around in bars tearing himself apart over something he could never change. So what, then, if you gave him a little nudge in the right direction? And Alonso, you seem to recall, is definitely the right direction.

It's the _other_ things that get to you. Because why on Earth, when your body is flooded with radiation and you can feel every passing second dragging you further into the darkness, would you waste those last precious seconds on a lottery ticket and a stolen hello?

For Donna, it's because she needs to be happy. That's a lie; it's because _you_ need her to be happy. You need to know that whatever you did to her mind, however you scarred her and betrayed her, that she can wake up in the morning and not think 'If only'.

And anyway, you promised to see Wilf again. It had absolutely nothing to do with Donna being in her wedding dress, and the fact that it neatly bookended your time with her to see her once again getting married - this time for real. That absolutely was not true.

And Rose? Let's face it, you were always going to go back. No matter how much you told yourself it was over, you never quite got the closure you desired (because that beach thing was a bloody mess, if you're honest, and even more so the second time). You needed to see her back when she was still the girl you remembered; when she was all smiles and had time for every stranger. You don't want to remember the woman with the gun; the woman who cajoled Donna into sacrificing herself for the world and who ended every thwarted plan with 'But what about me?'.

So you needed the end for your new beginning. And now it's over, you wonder how you ever stayed away from Earth; you wonder how you thought you could go on without someone by your side.

They ended up happy, all of them, even if it was in ways you never expected. So. New start.

Geronimo, indeed.


	153. Traffic

OK, this one is... a bit random. Not very random, just... a bit.

Also, I can only apologise again for not yet responding to reviews. I have read them, and thank you all, but what with revision I simply have not had the time. So over a few days, you may receive rather random PMs from me. Rest assured, I am only responding to something you probably no longer remember writing.

Disclaimer: My bus. Mine. Because Chitty Chitty Bang Bang would have been _so_ much better with Christina.

* * *

153 - Traffic

(or, The Many Transport Woes of an Ex-Cat Burglar)

"What do you mean, _no_?"

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I just don't have the authority to-"

"Then _get_ the authority."

"You'll have to take it up with the Council, Miss..."

"De Souza."

"Miss de Souza, I-"

"_Lady _de Souza."

"Well, I'm sorry, _milady_, but you just can't park a bus-"

"Oh, forget it." So she got back into the bus and flew away. She was fairly sure he couldn't send a parking ticket by air mail, especially as he had no idea where she was going.

Actually, neither did she. London was obviously out. In fact, the whole of England was off limits, thanks to that ridiculous news report that insisted on calling her an 'escaped prisoner and danger to the public'.

She heard Delhi was quite nice this time of year.

---

Two days after arriving in India, Christina lost the bus.

Well, not _lost_ exactly. It was stolen. And while she giggled for a full minute after picturing some Indian joyriding teenager suddenly finding themselves in mid-air, she still needed a way to get around.

She considered commandeering a taxi, but thought better of it. It was easy to trace licence plates and she didn't particularly feel like trying to explain to the Delhi police why she needed it in the first place. ('It wasn't my fault! I only did it because someone stole my flying bus!').

God, she missed the Doctor.

Then she realised that just because she couldn't steal a car didn't mean her _talents_ had to be wasted.

Ten minutes later, she had acquired a bicycle.

---

Why the _hell_ had she thought a bicycle would be a good idea?

You see, Christina was not a fan of exercise. She had taken gymnastics, yes, but that was only because Daddy thought it was a 'proper sport for a young lady'. She hated the idea of _sweating_ and _aching_ when the same results could be achieved by hiring a chauffer and a nutrition expert.

So to find herself struggling for breath after less than two miles cycling was not a surprise. It was, however, a massive inconvenience. And that coupled with the scorching hot weather was making her miss England's rainy days and- hang on. What was that police car doing?

---

"Lady Christina de Souza?"

"Yes?"

"We have orders to arrest you and extradite you to England, awaiting trial for theft-"

"Oh, thank _God_. Listen, could you return this bike for me? Thanks. And tell them to get a proper vehicle next time."

"Just get into the car, madam."

"With pleasure. Listen, could you just give me a second? I dropped my bag in those bushes over there..."

---

Three days later, a bemused parking attendant sat at home watching the news when something strange caught his eye.

"That's her!" he called to his wife, who was in the kitchen. "That woman with the flying bus!"

_"Indian police are on the lookout for the notorious burglar, Lady Christina de Souza, after she was last seen driving a stolen police car..."_


	154. Mutiny

At the end of 'Torchwood: Children Of Earth' there was a six-month gap. This is set just before the end of that gap. Oh, and I made up the vaguely Welsh-sounding place at the end.

Disclaimer: It's a gap. By definition, it consists of nothing. I own nothing.

* * *

154 - Mutiny

"Dad?"

Gwen Cooper nearly dropped the phone. She knew that voice. "No, it's... it's Gwen. I work with your dad. That is Alice Carter, right?"

"Yeah... Listen, could you get him to call me back? I just... we need to talk."

Gwen dropped her head to the desk silently before answering, her forehead still pressed to the wood. How was Alice to know that all Torchwood calls were being redirected to her mobile? "Alice, I don't think he'll be back any time soon."

"_What_? Where is he?"

"I-"

"Oh, don't answer that. I know. He ran away, didn't he?"

Gwen, who had been wavering before then, heard the absolute derision in Alice's voice and made a decision. _To hell with protecting Jack. This is probably the one person on Earth who hates him as much as I do at the moment, and I'm going to damn well vent._ "Yes, he took some time off to lick his wounds. Off-world."

"That _bastard_."

"I couldn't agree more."

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line. "Gwen... I've heard that name before. He mentioned you a lot."

"He _did_?"

"Oh, that's charming. Bet he never talked about me. Bet he didn't even mention he had a daughter, never mind a..."

"...A grandson?" She heard Alice's breathing hitch slightly. "Listen, I am... _so_ sorry about Stephen. And if I'd been there, I would have shot Jack through the heart before I let him do that."

"There'd be no point. He'd just wake up again." The words were heavy with bitter venom.

"Exactly. I don't even get arrested. The perfect crime."

Alice gave a hollow laugh. "You're actually serious, aren't you?"

"Alice, he left me. My best friend died, my two other friends had been killed in action six months ago, the Hub had been destroyed and the government was coming up with lie after lie trying to explain why it thought Torchwood should be eliminated and how sorry they were that they tried to get rid of us and nearly succeeded. _Did_ succeed. And then to top it off, I find out I'm pregnant. And then _bloody _Jack Harkness tells me he needs space and bloody _leaves _and I'm left rebuilding Torchwood on my own. So yes, I would shoot him. And no, I wouldn't be sorry."

"Pregnant... Dad's?"

"_No_, thank God. My husband's. If it had been Jack's, I wouldn't have let him leave."

"Like you could have stopped him."

There was silence on both sides as the two women mentally cursed the man who had ruined both their lives. Then, in a surprisingly calm voice, Alice spoke.

"Gwen... do you think we could meet up? To talk?"

"Yeah... I'd like that, yes. Do you know the little cafe down by the Bay?"

"Can I see you there at lunch?"

"That's be great. See you then."

"Bye."

Gwen put the phone down slowly. She was slightly shell-shocked that Alice had even called, to be honest.. If it had been her child - and she moved one hand to her stomach protectively - she wouldn't have even considered forgiving Jack. She was seriously considering not forgiving him _now_.

But then again... it was Jack. And this was what he did to you; he messed you up so badly you couldn't tell what you'd do anymore.

She looked down at the phone one more time and was surprised to see a text message from a number she didn't recognise. She opened it, and nearly dropped the phone again.

_Hill east of Yglhain. 13/09/09. 23:00. J._

What would she do when she saw Jack again?

Looks like she was about to find out.


	155. Beat

I am a bad, bad person. I _promise_ I will answer reviews eventually; I've just been insanely busy. But it will happen.

In happier news, I'm pleased to announce that the winner of the competition is... GwenCooper456 for her summary of 'Everything Changes'! Congratulations. You win pride and glory. (Feel free to request a prize as well, although I can't guarantee that virtual chocolate and cookies will reach you intact.) Thank you to everyone who entered and/or voted.

Disclaimer: I cried my heart out at _that _scene. Oh, you'll know the one I'm talking about by the end. That's not a statement of ownership; it's just a random fact.

* * *

155 - Beat

It could have ended on the Valiant.

The pieces were all in place. The end of humanity; your beloved TARDIS part of the genocide. Companions to watch you go and a heroic sacrifice with your name scrawled across it in the Master's handwriting. And... oh, yes. The drums.

It could have ended on Midnight.

And you thought it would, if you're honest. That _thing_ knocked on the door and slid inside your head. Those you had talked to earlier - those you had tried to _save_ - turned on you as soon as your words were stolen. The terrifying thing was, it was _so_ easy. But of course, you didn't know about the prophecy then, did you? You didn't know that your death-knell was four beats long.

It could have ended on Mars.

Because that's when you _really_ lost it. That's when you turned into the very thing you were fighting against. That's when you looked at one person and decided they were less worthy than another. You tore apart their world, you rewrote their stories, and you _laughed_. Thing is, history says there were no survivors of the Bowie Base One project. Every crew member died. And you? Fiddling with the engines, running system checks? You were part of the crew. And from that moment, you were marked. But you never let it finish; you rewrote the rules. You stopped it after three knocks and you changed the ending.

It could have ended a million times over, in a million ways, every one of them preceded by four beats.

It didn't.

It ended with an old man asking to be set free. A man who loved your best friend; a man who loved _you_ like his own. A man who rushed in without thinking to save a nameless stranger. A man who watched as you sent your people back to Hell, as you once again washed your hands in their blood. A man who could not kill another living soul. A man who never would.

This is the way your world ends: not with a bang, but with a tap, tap, tap, tap on a glass door.


End file.
